In My Gallery
by dazzley
Summary: Takao is an aspiring artist with no talent, and Kai wants nothing more than to destroy pieces of art. What happens when these two meet? Nothing good, that's for sure. TakaoKai, ReiMao, etc.
1. Chapter 1

Takao was never really a good artist. That's what he tells his family and friends whenever they decide to drop by his cramped little studio. Okay, so it's not really a studio. That's what he likes to call his room. Paintings line the walls of his domain, splashes of colors here and there, with black and white dabbed somewhere every so often. The figures in his paintings and sketches are out of proportion and clumsy, kind of like something an autistic three year old who has just gotten his hands on crayons might draw.

Even if he's not all that wonderful with his hands and his perspective is a little off, he's always getting better at it. It's something that he loves more than almost anything. Ever since picking it up when he was ten, he had been hooked. Everyone has one real big passion in their life, right? His just happens to be messy and expensive.

Takao is leaning over his most recent portrait with care right now. He's using dark colored pastels right now, which are actually quite messy if you're not careful, and is making strong strokes along the white bumpy canvas. Earlier when he had gone down to the store to pick up his grandpa's ointment he had seen an interesting scene. One he just felt the need to put into picture-form. A few kids sitting on the street-curb with glass shards littered around their sneakers while cigarettes hung loosely from between their stubby fingers.

They were literally kids, probably even younger than Takao, and he was pretty young. Roughly about sixteen, that was, and his birthday had just passed. He was a summer baby, no doubt about it. The kids had been what grandpa would call "gangster" and what Hitoshi would call "bad influences", but Takao didn't feel the need to label them like that. They were just kids to him. Angry-looking, world weary, beaten down jaded kids.

And he thinks he's actually doing a good job on this portrait. Then again, Takao always thinks his portraits are amazing until he shows them to his very critical older brother. Once Hitoshi gives his opinions, Takao is usually ready to toss the thing into the trash and go cry into his pillow. Doesn't Hitoshi know that artists are sensitive? Apparently not. Hitoshi is a lawyer, so Takao supposes he shouldn't expect anything less.

He rubs his finger on the pastel to blend a color so that it appears to be faded. The fan to his left is working like crazy, pumping away, but he still feels a bead of sweat roll down his back. Grandpa doesn't want to run the air conditioning if he doesn't have to (he thinks it will teach endurance or something of that caliber). Even though Takao has told him _many_ times that he _has_ to because all of his paintings and sketches will be ruined if they become too hot and melt everywhere. Grandpa always just says, "The electricity is still running, T-man! Buy yourself some _fans._"

Takao uses his wrist to blend some colors now, because his hand is too dirty. If he had tried to use it the portrait would have messed up. Usually by the end of his art sessions Takao needs to take an hour shower, maybe even more if he's using something that is hard to get out of the skin. He doesn't do _that_ too often, ever since he stained the run in the front of the house and got it good with the Shinai from grandpa.

Rub, blend, sketch, smudge, rub… it's a cycle that he keeps repeating for several hours. Hour after hour after _hour_. It's half the reason why he doesn't have all that many friends. He's too busy doing what he loves to bother with a social life. The only reason grandpa hasn't tossed him outside to get some fresh air is because of the recent influx of gangs. No one really knows how it started, or more precisely, no one really knows why the gangs have made themselves so known recently. It wasn't like this three summers ago, back when Takao used to fish in the river just on the edge of the park with his childhood friends.

Most people have been blaming the recent recession. The government hasn't been in the best shape and the prices of food and clothes have shot up dramatically, so much so that Takao hasn't even been getting new clothes. He's been getting Hitoshi's hammy downs, not too pleasant. People have lost their jobs (not anyone who Takao knows directly, but he's seen the news) and have been cutting their losses. Some kids have even been tossed out onto the streets. That's what Hitoshi says. "It's because they don't have anywhere else to go. They go into gangs, other kids who can relate to them are there, and run with them. It's like a family." Grandpa usually says something in retaliation, but Takao usually tunes him out before that. It's not like it affects _him_, right?

He blows on the portrait gently so the dust that has settled on it will be blown away. He doesn't want to smudge the painting unnecessarily and ruin it. He's drawing this scene from his memory, which is surprisingly good, but it isn't exactly as he wanted it to be. He sighs and pushes the canvas away.

Another day, another failure. Grandpa pushes his door open, "T-man! Why don't you go outside and get some fresh air, yo? You've been locked in this cocoon all day and night! I'd ask if you have a girl in here, but I don't think you're that lucky." Takao looks up from where he's crouching. "Thanks, Grandpa. Geez! I've just been sketching," he says with a slight edge, "And shouldn't you be bothering _Hitoshi_ about that kind of thing? He's _old._"

The old man shrugs his grandson off, "My statement stands, man! And look at your hands, people are going to think we don't let you bathe!" "Well you don't turn on the _Air Conditioning_, so it _could_ be possible!" Takao says, all ready to go on his usual rant about the temperature in his room, but Grandpa just tosses something at him. Takao catches instinctively and stares at the keys in his hands. They're house keys.

"Grandpa…" Takao says, wondering what the old man means by this, but when Takao looks back up, the elderly man is gone. His message is pretty clear, though. It's _get out of the house._ Takao shoves the keys into the pocket of his jeans, whatever happened to that fear about those _gangs_? Hitoshi isn't home as usual so Takao can't even ask to bum a ride over to Max's house. Max is this kid he's friends with, he's a good kid. Athletic, smart, usually rational, and a little quirky. He has this love affair with mayo which is pretty weird but everyone has their odds and ends.

This means that he'll have to _walk_. Takao doesn't much care for physical effort, like running and walking. He always scores last in the running tests in gym. He's pretty notorious for it. He brushes his hands against his jean which leaves streaks of black and whatever other color he has caking his hands. His arms are also pretty covered, but those are brighter colors like pink and blue, so no one will think its soot or something nasty like that.

He does change his shirt though, mostly because he's wearing one that says _Celine Dion_ in huge black letters. The shirt itself is pink, a bright nauseating pink, one that Takao would never be caught dead in outside his room. It was a gift from Hitoshi when he went on a business trip somewhere in America. He yanks it off and tosses it back into his closet. He has a strict five-wears-before-wash policy. This is because he has to do his own laundry. Ever since he turned fifteen he was deemed old enough to work the washing machine and dryer by himself, and ever since he turned fifteen his clothes have been perpetually sooty and stained.

He grabs something less embarrassing, a shirt with different colored footprints all over it, and pulls it over his head. From what he can hear grandpa is working on his thrusts in the dojo, something Takao should also be doing, but he shirks that duty just like he shirks everything else that isn't art or food. He shoves his feet into a pair of white sneakers that are _also_ stained, but these are stained from numerous treks through the park on rainy days. And Takao isn't the type to walk _around_ the puddles of mud.

The banging from the dojo becomes more exaggerated and precise. It's a warning to Takao that if he doesn't get out of the house soon he's going to get a thrashing. The artist almost leaves skid marks as he slides out the front door and to the sidewalk.

Max is home when he shows up, which is good. But Max is doing _chores_ when he shows up, which is bad. "Why don't you help Max out" his dad asks, "That way it'll get done quicker!" Geez, Takao doesn't like to do chores at his _own_ house. This is why he doesn't like parents all that much. They always feel the need to make their kids work, and when their friends come by; make their kid's friends work too. His grandpa is like that too.

Max laughs slightly with a somewhat nervous air, "Don't worry about it! I got it, I got it! I don't need help, ha-ha!" Takao feels Max's dad's eyes burning into his back, and the artist resists a sigh. The blond clearly isn't going to be done repairing the fence around the house anytime soon, and it would suck if Max's dad thought he was a good for nothing kid. Which he was. But he wasn't a _heartless_ good for nothing kid.

Max beats a nail into the fence and Takao holds the plank up in place. "So he just tossed you the keys?" Max asks as he swings away, and Takao nods. "Just like that! Geez, and he's the one always going on about how this girl got killed and about how this guy went missing." Max looks thoughtful for a second, "Maybe he's just trying to let you become more independent?" Max has a tiny lisp when he talks, Takao notices. Huh.

"… I doubt it," Takao says as he hoists up another piece of wood for Max to hammer in, "Maybe my constant presence in the house just finally got to him." Max laughs, "Maybe! You do spend days in your room. _Days_. And you didn't even pick up your phone when I called you!" Takao sends Max a surprised glance as he uses a hand to dig in the pocket of his jeans. "Called me?" he pulls out the phone and flips it open with a finger, "… Five missed calls!? The phone didn't even ring!" "Do you even check, Taka?" Max asks with a hair toss, "You might miss something important!"

"Aw, c'mon Maxie. Nothing important ever happens in the _summer_. Not to me." Takao goes through his missed text messages, and there's one from the Chief, a dorky looking kid he's also friends with. "Hey Maxie, what day is today?" the artist asks as he shoots the blond a look. Max pushes another plank into place and takes a breath. These pieces of wood are heavier than they look. And they looked pretty heavy to begin with. "Today..? Takao, your _birthday_ just passed like, a week and a half ago! Are you really that out of it?"

"Just answer, c'mon! The Chief wants me to meet him somewhere some night, and I don't know when that is! And it'd be stupid to leave him hanging. He got mugged twice last month!" Max blinks, "Really? I thought he was mugged _three_ times." Takao shakes his head, "Nah, he hid in a dumpster before they could take anything." Max flips open his own cell phone, which is much nicer than Takao's, and presses a few buttons.

"You _do_ know there's a calendar installed on your phone, right?" Max says, and Takao slams the hammer on top of a nail sticking out of the fence, "Yeah, I know. But I can never find it! They hid it and encrypted it with some sort of code so it'll remain hidden forever."

"I thought you leaned how to use your phone beyond calls and texting," Max laughs. Takao just sticks his tongue out at the blond. "Today… the nineteenth!" Max says with triumph, "Wednesday!" "Aw, man, really?" Takao says with a slight whimper, "That means I have to get down to the docks by _tonight_. He wants me there at eight; he says he has something to show me." "You're lucky your grandpa decided to make you come back to reality today, then, or he might have been left all alone. I know. I'll go with you!" the athlete says as he stands and kicks the fence. It wobbles, but it remains erect.

"I think we're done with _this,_ anyway," he finishes. "Sure thing," Takao says as he also stands up. He's slightly taller than Max, but not by much. And the Chief is shorter than the both of them. "Sounds good to me. Are you going to have to sneak out again?" Max's dad was a little strict when it came to curfew, lately everyone's parents had been pretty strict about being home before dark. It was an unspoken rule that Takao had to be home before the streetlights went on . But that's the thing. It was an _unspoken_ rule. It had never actually been clarified, so Takao was free to break it as he pleased! Forget the fact that grandpa had never mentioned it because Takao never _left the house. _

But Max's dad wasn't so senile. Max blinks and rubs the back of his neck, "Ha-ha, again? Last time I did that he burst in the room seconds after I climbed back in the window, you know." Takao grins, "I know! What was your explanation for being all sweaty again?" Max blushes now and just mutters, "Jerk." Takao laughs and _laughs. _

Turns out that Max doesn't need to sneak out after all. Takao is a pretty smooth talker, when he wants to be.

"And she _broke up with me_," Takao sobs in a fit of fake hysteria, "Just like that! I need Max's moral support tonight, please! My grandfather said a sleepover would be okay – I just need my _absolute best friend_ at my side in my time of _need._" Max's dad looks stricken, "That's terrible, Takao! What was her name?"

Max is in a state of pure hilarity. Takao looks around quickly, trying to think of something off the top of his head. "H-Her name? … Uh. Uh. It. _Hurts me to say._" Max's dad nods his head, his face completely understanding. Sometimes Max thinks that Takao should be an actor, forget the whole paint on canvas artist. He is far too over-dramatic _not_ to be on stage somehow. So Max packs an overnight bag and slings it over his shoulder while Takao goes on and on about how his heart is broken.

They walk in the direction of Takao's house as Max's dad watches them leave, but they quickly dart in the direction of the docks when the man goes back inside to watch some football. They crouch over and whisper to each other, despite the fact that this completely unnecessary. "How long will we be there?" Max whispers, "My dad might call your house at… ten? Maybe? He usually does that kind of thing." "Shouldn't be too long," Takao whispers back, "Isn't this fun? The adrenaline! The possibility of getting caught and _getting grounded forever._"

Max makes a face and shoves Takao to the side, and the artist giggles like a girl. They duck along the bushes along the road to the dock as they go, just in case someone who knows Max's dad spots them. But oddly enough, it seems like no one else is out. They're actually doing this for fun now. They pretend to be ninjas as they go, their arms spread out and everything. They're really stupid for sixteen year olds. Or is that the norm?

The docks are pretty much empty, even though it's only seven o'clock. The sun goes down around this time and the streetlights are flickering, but Takao doesn't care. He's a little early but the Chief has always been known for being punctual. Extremely punctual. So punctual that he was probably there around six o'clock. Takao walks along the path to the warehouse number seven with Max beside him. The gravel crunches beneath their feet as they walk, and a chill drifts along with the wind from the ocean.

Takao gets a bad feeling, a tight feeling, in the pit of his stomach. He doesn't say anything to Max about it because he doesn't want to worry the blond. Maybe he just ate something bad? It was entirely possible. If he _had_ said something, however, he would have been informed about the hairs on the back of Max's neck and how they were standing up. But Max doesn't want to freak his friend out. They're both stupid like that.

Takao pulls the warehouse door open slowly with effort. It's a heavy door that creaks reluctantly as he pulls, and Max even gives him a hand with it. Takao half expects there to be darkness inside to greet him, but the lights are actually on. And inside the Chief is sitting in a chair with his laptop on his lap. He's typing away at that thing like there's no tomorrow. He probably wouldn't have even looked up from the screen if the breeze hadn't brushed his skin.

He looks up and grins, "Takao! And Max, hey! Hi guys!" He's waving his tiny hand now and gesturing for the other boys to step inside, "Close the door behind you, please! The ocean really brings a draft, doesn't it?" Takao yanks the door closed and Max walks up to the Chief, "Long time no see, Chief? When was the last time?" The Chief grins up at the taller boy, "Oh, I don't know! Just about a week and a half, maybe? Ever since Takao's birthday!"

"What about me?" Takao asks as he blows on Max's neck. Max jumps and rubs the back of his neck tenderly, "Hey! That's creepy, don't do that!" Takao laughs and then flips his hand at Max, "So why are we here, Chief?" He looks around. There are a ton of crates lining the walls of the warehouse and a bunch of large square shaped things covered with sheets around them. The Chief chuckles and looks pleased with himself, "This is your belated birthday present, Takao! I would have asked you to come here earlier but they wouldn't have _been_ here earlier. And tomorrow they'll be gone."

"What are you talking about?" the artist asks with slight excitement, "What is it?" Max looks interested. The Chief gestures to the sheet-covered objects behind him, "Here. Just pull the sheets off! It's okay. No one will know." Takao gives the Chief a curious look and then walks up to one of them cautiously. He tugs on the sheet and doesn't move. Another tug. Nothing. Finally he just _tears_ it off, which proves to be mostly effective.

It's one of the most beautiful paintings Takao has ever seen. The dark colors and bright splotches, the people, the _scene_. He stares at it with his mouth open. The Chief rests his hands on his hips and raises his chin a little bit, "Great gift, huh? You can't _have_ it, of course, it's going in the museum tomorrow, but. You can have your own little viewing." Max pulls off the other sheets because Takao is too busy standing agape at that _single painting._ Eventually Max has to lead him to another one, which is equally amazing, and he gets stuck at that one too.

"Chief, you … how did you _do_ this?" he asks after a good half an hour of staring agape and being generally shocked. "I just pulled some strings is all," responds the shorter boy with joy laced in his voice, "I'm so glad you like it!" "How could I _not_?" the artist says as he closes in on one of the paintings. Max approaches the Chief and whispers so that only he can hear, "So? How'd you do it?" The Chief smirks a little bit, "Well, my dad is friends with the shipping company they used to ship it. They don't exactly _know_ that there's a private viewing going on now."

Max grins and rests his hands on his hips. It's all well and good until they hear the voices. The voices of kids _other than them._ Max is the one who hears them first, "Guys! I think we've got company! What should we do?" The Chief looks alarmed, "There shouldn't be anyone else here! I mean – I don't see why anyone else our age would be… oh, no! It must be a gang! They might have meetings around here, we need to hide! _Takao_!"

The black haired boy turns and looks at his friends, "You want to _hide_? Why!? It's a free country!" Max just shakes his head and grabs Takao's arm, "Takao! They might be dangerous. We've got to hide. Quick, behind those crates!" The blond has to forcibly pull the artist behind a stack of crates and, more efficiently, into the shadows. The chief flicks off the switch and hurries over to them, almost sliding across the floor to the comfort of his friends.

They're lucky Max is such a quick thinker, because the door of Warehouse Number Seven is pulled open. The kids are clearly what grandpa would call delinquents, Takao can tell that from the way they talk and carry themselves. He doesn't even _need_ to see them. But when they finally _do_ come into view, Takao can see that they're very _very_ tough looking. Way tougher than those kids on the curb.

They're talking to each other.

"Is this the place?" A rough voice, that's very deep.

"Yeah." A softer voice, smooth, but sharp at the same time.

Some laughter.

The Chief is shaking in his boots, "G-Guys…" he whispers, "I think those are the _Blade Sharks. _They're one of the toughest gangs in the _city_." Max looks at him with wide blue eyes and Takao just looks confused, "But they don't look any older than us!" "Shhhhh!" Max and the Chief slam their hands over Takao's mouth at the same time.

One of the blade sharks looks around, "Did you guys hear something? I'm _telling_ you! I'm being haunted by _ghosts_!"

"Places are haunted, not _people_, dumbass." Someone else says.

"That's not true! I heard about this guy named John who was haunted by his whore ex-girlfriend he killed…"

"God, man, don't even joke like that. I had a girlfriend named Jean. John and Jean almost sound the same! …Do you think she's haunting me?"

"Would you guys _shut up_?"

The guy with the soft voice is the one who tells them to shut their traps. Takao peeks out to get a look a look at the guy who shut up everyone else with just a sentence. He's built, has weird colored hair, and even weirder colored eyes. They're like, a mix of red and purple. And god is he built. Is this guy really sixteen? Seventeen? …Eighteen? He doesn't look much older than Takao, but that _body._ Takao is a string-bean in comparison!

"Just do it."

They're destroying everything. Takao watches in pure shock – the boys are knocking the paintings down and stomping all over them. Some boys are pouring what smells like vodka all over some of them, and others are tearing away at the canvases with switch knives and even their fingernails. The Chief is flabbergasted and Max is stunned, they're all white in the face. The built one – the one Chief whispered to be called Kai – watches on with this dangerously pleased look on his face.

"Oi, Kai!" says another, who the Chief has pegged as Carlos, "Why are we doing this again?" "Why do you _care_?" Kai asks, "You get to have your fun destroying things, don't you?" Carlos shrugs but doesn't ask any more questions. He was pushing it, asking just one. Takao can't just sit there and allow such art be _destroyed_! He can't!

So he pushes Max and the Chief away and bursts out of the shadows, "_STOP WHAT YOU'RE DOING._" And much to his amazement, everyone _does_ stop.

Takao blinks, "… Oh, wow. Huh. I didn't plan this far in advance."

The one they call Kai looks over at him and raises a brow. Carlos cracks his knuckles, "Looks like we _will_ get some blood tonight!"

Takao wants to flee, but he knows he's doomed. "… Nice day, huh?"

They approach him.

**AN: **Thanks for giving my story a shot! Huh. This one actually came into my mind right out of left field. I just had this _urge_ to get it down on paper, so here you go! It'll probably be wrapped up in a short number of chapters (definitely less than ten) with a cute little semi-pairing (Takao and Kai duh I rarely write anything else unless it is onesided) and a cute little story. Uh. Yeah. Oh also there is tons of foreshadowing in here and I am so proud of that, ha-ha. Rei will also be in this story! I'm going to try to bring in everyone I can and kind of mesh early season one with season three in the course of … development? Plus I want to use the characters from season three too so this is a cop-out. It's AU, naturally, and everyone is older because we cannot have twelve year olds running around. 


	2. Chapter 2

They walk up to the warehouse slowly so no one will be able to hear them. Carlos knows that there isn't anyone around, but Kai is careful, so he's ordered them to keep their traps shut and to just keep walking with their heads down. But once they start getting close to the warehouse and the docks they begin to talk anyway.

"So I was playing this new game, its called World of Warcraft," one guy is saying, "I stole this silver laptop from some dorky kid with glasses and the game was on it, so I clicked it and got into it! It's kind of awesome. I'm a level 15 mage and my character looks _amazing._" Another boy cuts in now, "Dude, that's so lame."

"It is not lame!" he replies with a huff, "I'd like to see _you_ level up and work with it!" Everyone just rolls their eyes and trudges along in Kai's majestic wake. The conversations are stupid, why Kai travels with these guys he doesn't even know. They can be useful at times, but he's never really _needed_ them. They're just followers, they need a leader, and they seemingly had chosen Kai for this job.

Living in a gang isn't an easy thing. The world is a rough and tough kinda place. If you don't have a place to go, you either find yourself a gang to replace your family or you head off to an orphanage. And who the hell wants to go off to an orphanage?

Not Kai. And none of these guys, either. Carlos was tossed out because he was a bad kid in general, some of the other boys tossed out because their parents were dead-beats or poor, and the rest never really had a home to begin with.

Kai is different, though. He takes a breath and tightens his scarf around his neck and chin. The breeze picks up and some of the other boys shiver and curse at the ocean. The boys are talking about something else now, Kai notices, and it's just as pointless as the conversation before. He only notices because they're being pretty loud now. Their voices echo across the empty parking lot and down the docks.

"Ghosts are real, I'm telling you! My Aunt Marie was married to one once."

"You mean she married someone who _died_, idiot?"

"No, she married him after he died!"

"…So she married a fucking corpse? That's disgusting!"

The boys are arguing among themselves now, and Kai sighs. What a motley crew he has. But they _are_ his crew (for now) and they're going to help him get this done as quickly as possible. After they finish he can just ditch them and go take a nap somewhere. Carlos approaches Kai quickly, "So what are we doing again?"

Kai stares at Carlos with an eyebrow arch. Why does he associate himself with this guy again? Oh, yeah. He has a fluffy kitten named Mittens that Kai likes to pet. "You're just going to destroy the Picasso and Buonarroti works," he says smoothly, "However you want." Carlos looks confused, "What the hell are Pocasoos and Boonarrotees?"

Kai looks at him in total disbelief for a few seconds, "… They're famous painters, _genius._" He stresses the word genius for the sake of emphasis on the fact that it is an insult; he doesn't want anyone to get wrongly flattered.

Carlos mumbles something but averts his eyes in submission. Out of the corner of his eye, Kai thinks he sees some lights flicker off from inside the warehouse, but his attention is pulled away from that when a couple of guys find a yen piece on the ground. Or, more precisely, they're punching each other because they both claim to have seen it first.

"It's _MINE_, douchebag!" the smaller one is yelling as he swings his hand back, the bigger one putting up his arm to block. That's the thing. When you live on the streets like these boys do, you're constantly fighting for your own survival, even in your own gang. Money is something they don't have unless you steal it, and while they do that often enough, finding it is a blessing.

Kai honestly doesn't care if they fight, but he doesn't want there to be a scene here until _after_ they're done. So he does the first thing that happens to come to mind, he shoves Carlos into the fight with a very _hard_ push, and he lands on both boys. Carlos is one of the biggest guys in the gang, he can easily smush these guys under his frame.

Kai turns and heads in the direction of the warehouse. It's totally dark and there is no suspicious behavior. Perfect. All the other boys follow him, all except Carlos and those two who were fighting because they're all tangled up together right now. The gang members are talking about ghosts and ghost stories again now, but Kai isn't listening.

"Is this the place?" Carlos is back, a little roughed up but you can't really tell because he usually looks ragged and dirty anyway. "Yeah," Kai says. He leaves it at that. He's not going to go and have a casual conversation with Carlos just because the kid is imploring him with his eyes. One of the boys begins going on about ghosts in the background which causes another argument, but Kai is too busy gazing at the paintings left out in the open.

Sheets are slumped on the ground lazily as though someone had tossed them there. Kai steps forward and examines one of the pieces by Picasso while the rest of his gang files into the room. But eventually he has enough of the gradual rise of noise, "Would you guys _shut up_?"

The room goes dead silent when Kai says this, and he goes back to examining the pieces. They're beautiful, so beautiful. He briefly runs his fingers against the canvas and closes his eyes, just to _feel_ the piece.

Before anyone can register this as what Kai does when he is fond he something, his eyes snap open and he takes a step away from the masterpiece. "Just do it." With those simple words, the boys spring into action.

It's no surprise, seeing as they haven't had any action in the past couple of days. Carlos is beating on one of the pieces with his fists while some other boys and using their pocket knives and are playing tic tack toe on another. The smell of vodka drifts into the room as one of the older boys opens a bottle and pours some onto one of the oil paintings.

It's a party for them. Kai can't help but to feel such a deep sense of satisfaction. He loves these paintings, he loves them but he _hates_ them. _That_ man had always loved them, from what he could remember from his childhood. Kai had seen plenty of these paintings (recreations of course, he rarely saw a real peace outside of his grandfather's collection and the occasional visit to the museam) in the past.

His ties to them are deeper than he likes. Carlos's voice grates on his brain, "Oi, Kai! Why are we doing this again?" Kai honestly doesn't understand why the boy bothers to speak. Doesn't he know he's _annoying_? "Why do you _care_?" Kai snaps, "You get to have your fun destroying things, don't you?" Carlos seems subdued with that answer, and Kai continues to watch as the paintings that tug so hard on his heartstrings are crushed beneath combat boots and sour vodka.

That's when an unfamiliar voice cuts through his brain like an arrow through a forest, "_STOP WHAT YOU'RE DOING._" It's a lighter voice than his and its very, very clear. Clear like crystal.

Kai turns his head to look at the person responsible for interrupting his thoughts so successfully. He studies the young man carefully, just in case he's someone he'll have to _deal_ with later.

He's short, shorter than Kai, and of a slender build. If Kai had to call him something, he'd say scrawny. Short and scrawny. What a combo. Carlos is approaching the guy – the _kid_, really – and cracking his knuckles in what he thinks is a menacing way. Kai just thinks he looks retarded when he does that.

Takao swallows a little bit and waves his hand in what he hopes is a friendly manner, "Ha-ha, uhm. Don't you think you can _leave _those paintings _alone_? They haven't done anything…" The artist is cut off by Carlos grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and hoisting him into the air like a sack of potatoes. Takao grunts a little bit when Carlos flings him up, and Carlos has a surprised expression on his face.

Carlos speaks, "Hey, you're light! I thought you'd be heavier, you know? I wasn't expecting you to go all the way up!" Takao laughs awkwardly at this, "Oh, yeah. My grandpa put me on a diet a few weeks ago because I was getting fat. He says it's from the lack of exercise!"

Carlos nods his head, "Yeah, that would do it." Max takes this time to burst out from behind the crates. The Chief follows after, though it's clear from the way his lower lip is quivering that he knows that they're all going to get raped and killed.

"Put him down!" the blond demands, "Right now!" One of the gang members speaks up, "Oh yeah? Three against—sorry, _two_ against nine. The nerd doesn't count." The Chief makes a little keening noise in the back of his throat, but he doesn't retreat back into the shadows like he wants to. Like they all want to.

Carlos jiggles Takao a little bit and the artist glares daggers into the other boy's face, "Hey! That doesn't _tickle_." Max glares at the other boys who are making their way towards him and the Chief takes a tiny step back. Kai just watches them and doesn't say anything. Some of the gang boys are throwing him looks. Looks that say _tell us what to do!_ Max glances around for a weapon of any kind, and Takao and Carlos are talking again.

"Do you believe in ghosts?" Carlos is asking, and Takao is just staring at the guy like he's nuts. "Sure! Do you believe in knock-outs?" Takao asks, and Carlos blinks. But before the guy can really register what Takao means, Takao has already slammed his fist into Carlos's nose.

Cue the extreme nosebleed and Carlos dropping Takao to the ground. The boy falls back and hits his head against the concrete floor, which succeeds in knocking him unconscious. Crack, crunch, out. Takao, on the other hand, is splattered with Carlos's nose blood and wincing from his awkward fall. He's going to have a bruise on his ass in the morning.

The Chief gasps and Max dodges one of the gang boys throwing himself at him. It seems that Takao's thoughtless punch was enough to set everyone off, even Kai. He's headed in their direction with an expression on his face that will haunt the Chief's nightmares for years to come.

Max grabs a plank of wood off the floor and swings it around like a baseball bat, and it's actually quite effective. He hits one kid in the gut and he falls back, growling and pulling out a switchblade. A couple of boys have grabbed the Chief and he's squirming for his life, flailing his limbs, and somehow managing to smack the boys in the face with his hands and feet.

Takao isn't expecting Kai's foot in his side. He doesn't even hear the guy come up beside him; he is so busy pushing one of the guys off of the Chief. But there it is, slamming right into his ribcage and sending him sailing. He gasps and buckles over once he slams into the wall of the warehouse; a sharp pain runs down the side where he was kicked.

Max calls out his name, but the blond is too busy fighting off Kai's lackeys. They're all pulling out bottles and blades now, but they don't seem _too_ serious, which is what Max is hoping will let them get away fairly unscathed. After all, Max isn't that much of a threat to them, and the Chief is even less than that.

Kai grabs Takao's shoulder and yanks him up so that they're looking at each other. "_Nobody_ messes with the Blade Sharks," Kai says. Takao knows he should bow his head so he won't die and ruin his grandpa's life (he doesn't think Hitoshi will much care if he dies) but he's too stubborn to do that. "Nobody, huh? I guess that makes me the _first._ Do I get a prize?"

Takao assumes that his prize is Kai slamming him back into the wall again. "Ouuuch, Jesus! What'd I ever do to _you_?" Takao whimpers, glaring up at Kai with what energy he can muster. "You messed with my _gang._ Are you stupid?"

Takao decides not to answer that question because he _is_ kind of stupid. That, and he's in a little too much pain right now to find a witty retort to it. "You have a pretty crappy gang," he mutters. He just can't seem to stop himself, insulting Kai is his only defense right now, if that makes any sense. Kai doesn't really react to the insult to the gang; he just shoves Takao around some more.

Max is a little over his head now. He's managed to knock out a few of the guys with a few good _hard_ swings to the head, but that only works so many times. The Chief passed out from the thought of being killed, which Max doesn't understand at all, so now he's protecting the Chief's unmoving body and his goods. He's taken a few hits to the face and stomach, and someone busted his lip with a nicely thrown punch.

Most of all, he's worried about Takao. He glances over at the artist out of the corner of his eye and winces as that Kai guy gives him an upper-cut to the stomach. Takao bends over a little bit but refuses to give up; he won't let Kai get the best of him. Well, okay. He won't let Kai _kill_ him.

Takao looks up at Kai and does the only thing he can think to do. He spits right in the guy's face. Kai releases Takao when he does, but that's because of shock. No one, and when I say no one I mean _no one_, has ever spat in Kai's face before. Ever. And it wasn't just a quick spit, that was a _lot_ of saliva.

"My name is _Kinomiya Takao_! And _don't_ forget it!!" Takao hisses (mostly in pain) as the spit drips down Kai's face. The guy is still shocked, he really is.

Takao slips past Kai and staggers to Max, "Maxie! C'mon, grab the Chief!" The gang boys have fallen back because their precious leader is paralyzed with disgust and anger. They're looking anxiously at each other and someone glances over at Carlos, the second in command. He's still out like a light. Max and Takao hoist the Chief over their shoulders and rush out of the warehouse while the Blade Sharks were still confused and frantic.

Max and Takao collapse in a heap behind some bushes a few yards away. The Chief is finally coming to, and Takao can't stop gagging. He's hunched over in the grass with his hand over his mouth, and Max watches him uneasily. "Taka, are you—Oh _god_ are you coughing up blood? That's _dangerous_ we need to get to a _hospital_!"

Takao shakes his hand and holds his free hand up, "N-No… I'm fine. I just bit the inside of my mouth. The side of my cheek. Blood. I don't really l-like the taste of it." Max rubs the back of his hand against his busted lip, "I have _no_ idea how I'm going to explain this one to my dad."

Takao looks up at his best friend and laughs weakly, "I think my grandpa will be more impressed than angry. He doesn't think I can hold my own in fights." Hitoshi would be the mad one.

They head back to Takao's house as quickly as they can. The Chief has wakened up by now and is trying to convince Takao and Max to go to a hospital, but neither will comply. They pull themselves into Takao's bedroom window and fall onto the floor. "I need to call my dad oh my God," The Chief is saying. "Tell him you're sleeping over," Takao says, "Max is."

Max is heading to the bathroom to look for something to put on his cuts, "I think I'll tell my dad we were wrestling or something and went too far," he says as he goes, "Training for football. He'll probably buy that…"

Takao wipes the back of his hand across his mouth and looks at the blood, "Yeah, okay. He probably will. I'll be right back, guys." The Chief is already on the phone and blabbering his story to his dad with no tact at all, "MOVIES. W-We went to the movies but it was a gory movie and I got scared so Takao said I could sleep over…"

The artist bursts into the dojo where his grandfather is diligently working with his Shinai. When the door opens the old man looks up. He studies his grandson. He's leaning against the doorframe and his breath is labored, like he's just gotten the wind knocked out of him. "Grandpa," he says, his voice slightly shaky, "I want to be _stronger._"

Grandpa turns back to the pole he was whacking with his Shinai. Takao doesn't even need to explain anything to him. If anything, Grandpa will use this as a chance to finally teach his grandson the _way of the sword_. That way, maybe he'll actually inherit the dojo and keep the family tradition going. It wasn't like Hitoshi was going to do it. "We'll begin training tomorrow, little dude."

The next day Max calls his father to explain the whole _wrestling_ incident. He doesn't seem too mad, which is good, but he wants Max home in time for lunch. Max hangs up the phone with a sigh and leans back against the headboard of Takao's bed. Takao is still asleep; he's a heavy sleeper, curled up in his blankets and pillows. The Chief is also still asleep. Max was always an early riser.

He looks at the walls and studies the paintings. Takao has a good sense of color and brightness, not so much perspective for people. His paintings are beautiful, though, in Max's humble opinion. They have something that plain paintings don't have.

_Heart._ You can see that Takao really loves painting from the amount of care he puts into the pieces. Sure they aren't the next Picasso pieces, or … anything famous, really. But they've got a certain charm to them that makes Max smile.

His mind drifts back to last night, back to those works that Takao had loved so much that were destroyed. Kai… he had destroyed everything. The art had been totally damaged, crushed beneath feet and with knives.

Takao had spit in Kai's face, too. Max knows that because of that, Takao won't be able to go out at night again. Oh, no. Not when Kai was around. He drums his fingers on his knees and looks out the window.

The sun rising on the horizon is a really pretty sight, you know?

Takao wakes up and stretches lazily like a cat, like he usually does when he wakes up. Only this time there's a sharp pain pretty much everywhere in his body. Across his stomach, in his arms, his neck, his mouth… he can still taste the coppery taste of bloody. He sits up awkwardly and winces, it's not easy to more when you're sore. Oh, his ass is pretty ache-y too.

Max grins at his friend, "Ha-ha, so you're up? Geez, you sleep so late." Takao sticks his tongue out at the blond, "Give me a break. After last night you think you'd sleep in a little bit. What time is it? _Nine_?" "Ten!" Max promptly responds, "It's ten."

"Blah!" Takao tries to toss his hands into the air, but it hurts too much. He doesn't bother. Max gets the message, anyway. The Chief stirs from his slumber and pokes his head up, "Man… my head hurts."

Takao and Max give the Chief a bored expression, one that says _we are not impressed_. "_Your_ head hurts?" Takao says, pointing his finger in the Chief's face, "You weren't Kai's punching bag! Geez, you got so scared you passed out. Why'd you do that, anyway? They didn't _seem_ that tough. Well, Kai did. But the other guys were kind of stupid." Max nods his head, "Yeah! They were stupider than Takao!" "… Oi, Max." "No offense!"

The Chief sighs and sits up on the bed, his legs crossed. "Well… I couldn't tell you guys last night for obvious reasons, but… they're really dangerous. You guys are out of the loop if you don't know." "I don't usually keep up on celebrities in the gang world, Chief," Takao says as he slumps back against the headboard of his bed. Max nods his head in agreement.

"Okay. Well, I'll start with Kai since he's the one we ran into. He's really up there on the gang list because he's _ruthless_. They say he'll do anything for power. He killed a lady for asking him for directions once! He kidnapped a baby to sell for money! He's killed more kids than pictures you've _drawn_, Takao."

"Oh come _on,_" Takao says with an eye roll, "Kidnapped a baby? _Really_? He was tough… and…but I don't think he'd… okay, maybe he would. But… it seemed like he was going kind of easy on me. Up until I spat in his face. I'm pretty sure he was going to rip my head off if we didn't leave after that." The Chief's jaw drops, "You _spat in his face_!?" Takao rubs the back of his neck, "Oh… yeah. You were unconscious for that." "Takao!! He's going to _kill_ you. Or at _least_ torture you until you beg for forgiveness on your _knees._"

Takao shrugs his shoulders and Max speaks up, "We'll just have to make sure we never see him again! Or at least, wait until he gets thrown in jail. I'm pretty sure killing people is illegal in Japan, Chief. If he _has_ killed, the police will get him."

The Chief presses his fingers to his lips, "No, they won't! Rumor has it that he's in league with the _Russian mafia_." Takao snorts, "The Russian Mafia!? Oh, come _on_. He can't be any older than us. And if he was in the Russian mafia wouldn't he have some brass knuckles?" The Chief shakes his head. "You just don't understand!"

Max and the Chief head home around lunch time, and Grandpa approaches Takao about his training. "So, little dude, are you ready to start?" You can tell that grandpa is excited about this because of the little swagger in his step and the grin on his face. "Geez, gramps. You think you could be a little more worried about your grandson's well-being? I'm in pain!" Takao moans as he slumps across the couch.

Grandpa smacks Takao in the head with the Shinai and the artist yelps. "I'm not going to baby you, yo! You're a big boy, dude! You've gotta learn to _defend_ yourself. Hitoshi can kiss your booboos when he gets back from wherever he is." Takao winces a little bit. Hitoshi always used to protect him from bullies when they were kids, and he really _would_ smother Takao with unwanted attention when he came home scraped up and bloody. And as much as Takao likes attention, he's not all too fond of Hitoshi's kind of OCD attention.

Grandpa gets ready to hit Takao in the head again, but the artist jumps up before the old man can strike. "Okay, okay! I'm going!" He hurries into the dojo with grandpa hot on his heels. He plops down onto his knees in the traditional student pose and grandpa begins to rattle off the basics of sword training and defense. Finally, Takao cuts in, "Grandpa! I'm an artist, I like art! I know you like swords, but I just want to get stronger. Defense. I was hoping you could sign me up for like, kick-boxing."

Grandpa gives Takao a dark look, "Artist? _Art_? You silly—dude, you're stupid!" "What?" Takao asks with a blink and Grandpa just shakes his head, "I guess you really _don't_ understand." "Understand _what_," Takao says with a frustrated look, "How am I supposed to understand if you don't _tell_ me?" Grandpa drops on his knees across from Takao and places the Shinai before the younger man.

"T-man, swordsmanship _is_ an art. Do you think that all art is painting pictures and making beats? Of course not! The art of swordsmanship is beautiful. Its _practice_ and _discipline_. You can become stronger and learn a new art, one that isn't so commonly found. You can see pictures anywhere, but how many people know swords?"

Takao is silent. He knows grandpa has a point, and he's stunned. But grandpa takes his silence as a sign that Takao still doesn't understand. So he stands, "Here, let me show you!" He grabs the Shinai and stands in place, his arms out and the Shinai before him. He moves with grace and precision as he swings the blade. It isn't just reckless swinging, like Takao thought, and when he watches his grandfather he can _tell._ He wouldn't be able to do that just because he _wanted_ to.

"It improves stamina, strength, speed, and spirit," Grandpa says as he counts the S's off on his hands, "And you'll be able to defend yourself and your _friends._" He tosses the Shinai to Takao who scrambles to get it, and somehow manages to hit himself in the head with it in the five seconds he has it.

Grandpa shoves his arms into place and shouts, "SWING!" Takao brings the Shinai down quickly and efficiently, and Grandpa nods his head with approval, "Again."

Somewhere far away, most likely in Japan but a different part, Hitoshi is hard at work in the courtroom. His client is testifying at the stand and he is questioning him with his usual direct no-nonsense voice. But he gets a tingle down his spine, and he turns his head in the direction of home.

The judge brings down her hammer and the jury looks at him oddly. Hitoshi rubs the back of his neck, "Aha, I'm sorry. I just remembered something important." That is a lie. Actually, his Takao senses are tingling. His little brother has just gotten himself into deep shit, and Hitoshi knows it.

He sighs and flips through his papers. It's hard having such an irresponsible Grandpa and brother.

**A/N: **Another day, another chapter! I hope you guys liked it! I really liked writing Kai's point of view in this one because it shows he's not such a bad guy, in contrast to the Chief's little rant about him. No, Kai has not sold babies or killed anyone. That is all just bad gossip. Oh, Chief, you silly thing. Anyway! I also had fun writing the Hitoshi bit and the bit with Carlos dangling Takao in the air, heh. Over-all I like this chapter, and it really helps explain things that will be happening later on (reasons for Kai and Takao actually running into each other again, etc). I have pretty much the whole story plotted in my mind. Yes, there will be future fight scenes! There will also be an awkward make-out at the near-end probably, and … Rei should be showing up in either chapter three or four. Before five, I should hope. He plays a pretty important role too! See you next time, and thanks for reading! Reviews and comments always welcome. Even if they have no point! \o\


	3. Chapter 3

Kai rubs the worn washcloth against his cheek and his blue face-paint smears everywhere. The boys are watching him with very large, very scared eyes. Only Carlos seems to be able to actually _think_, as he was the one who brought Kai the washcloth in the first place. But that's not much.

When that kid had spat in his face – no – when _Kinomiya Takao_ had spat in his face, Kai had drawn a blank. No one had ever spat on him before. _No one. _The Blade Sharks watch him with anxiety, wondering when he's going to say something. Carlos is barking something but no one is really listening.

Kai looks at them, his face clear of spit and blue face-paint altogether. They gasp when they see his face without its usual décor. It's actually quite smooth… which is odd for a gang member. Most of them have scars and cuts on their faces. Several of them actually thought Kai was _born_ with the blue marks on his cheeks which is why they gasp and point. No, Kai is not part shark! He's not a demon baby! He's not a vampire!

He lifts his chin a bit, "What're you standing around for? Get _rid_ of those paintings." With those words spoken from their leader, they scatter like flies. Carlos approaches Kai, "You want me to find those guys? Can't be too hard." Kai turns his head to look at the other boy, and then looks away. Carlos growls to himself and then takes another stab, "That Kinomiya kid, he's no one I've seen before. You think he's from some _unknown gang_ trying to get up on our territory?"

Still no answer, but Carlos can tell from the slant of Kai's eyebrow that he's listening, so he continues. "That blond kid didn't look like much, but he had a killer swing. And I want to pay Kinomiya back for what he did to me. Oh, man. That reminds me of what happened at the Convenience Store the other day with this girl…"

In front of them, the Blade Sharks are stomping on the paintings and laughing once again, glad that their leader isn't going to hurt them. Or burn down the building with the fire of his rage. Or magically grow lasers out of his hands and –

Kai stands with his arms crossed and watches them, now completely tuning Carlos out. If Carlos isn't talking about his kitten or Kinomiya Takao, Kai doesn't care.

Kinomiya Takao…

---

On the news a few days later they talk about a criminal break-in and robbery down by the docks, but Takao knows that it's a lie. He _was_ there when it happened, after all. He leans back and shoves another handful of popcorn in his mouth before reaching for the remote. He flips the channel to Spongebob, one of his favorite shows. The high-pitched laughter of the yellow sponge gives him a little bit of a headache.

Bruises are scattered up and down the young artist's arms, but his hands remain intact…somewhat. He had made his crazy grandfather promise to go easy on his hands – but going easy didn't mean the old man wouldn't target them some of the time. An artist needs them to paint and draw, he said, and grandpa had just waved him off with a smack of the sword. But he had listened. Kind of.

Plus he has Band-Aids _everywhere_ because of what happened in the warehouse that night. On his stomach, his legs, his _face_… he had mourned the marking of his beautiful face for hours before grandpa came in and told him he was looking more and more like Hitoshi these days. That shut him up for a while. A good _long_ while.

So aside from training with Grandpa and painting, Takao hasn't done anything at all. Television doesn't count. He's drawn a few (hundred) sketches of Kai Hiwatari - he's not too sure why, though. The guy just left a really heavy impression on him. Takao can count the number of guys who have punted him into a wall on one hand. Really, he had gone _flying_.

… It's a wonder he didn't break any ribs. Most of the bruises from Kai are on his upper arms and shoulders. Takao knows those aren't from Grandpa because they're shaped like _fingers._ Kai's fingers are really strong and –

Okay, enough thinking about Kai. And his fingers. Anyway! Yes, he had drawn some sketches of Kai. And if it were anyone else looking at them, they'd say they were pretty good. Which is weird because Takao's art usually sucks. Takao likes them a lot, but he keeps them shoved in his sketchbook, in the back where no one looks.

It's not like many people look at his art anyway, besides Hitoshi and Max, but he feels better if they're kept somewhere safe. Why he's paranoid about people finding his sketches of Kai's face, he has no idea, but he decides to not question himself about it. If he does he might find something out that he doesn't want to. Like he has an obsession with people who want him dead. What did they call that…? Masochist?

Grandpa knocks on the door and Takao sits up. "Who is it!?" It's not like it could be anyone else but his grandfather, but it's a habit to scream WHO IS IT when someone knocks on your door.

"Who do you think, little man? It's me! Can I come in?"

"Hold on, hold on!"

Takao shoves all of his sketches under his bed and kicks his box of markers under there too, so Grandpa doesn't complain about the possibility of them breaking and getting "marker juice" everywhere. Grandpa pushes the door open seconds later and rolls his eyes, "Are you just gunna sit in here all day? C'mon little man! Go out and chill with your homies!"

"What?" Takao says, "I can't! I'm a wanted man, wanted for murder! I have to stay on the down-low until Hitoshi gets back from Zimbabwe or wherever he is so he can defend me in court!"

"You know, little dude, if Hitoshi hears you're locking yourself in your room because you're scared of bullies, he'll come on home and take you to the park and play with you there. He'll beat up kids if they try to push you out of the sandbox, too."

Takao winces at the thought of his early childhood.

Grandpa continues, "Then he'll yell at you for being a crybaby and probably push you out of the sandbox himself. And eat your ice cream. Man up! If those bullies come back, you can take them!"

Takao decides that his grandpa is officially _insane_ and he needs to move into a nice safe insane asylum.

"They're not _bullies_ grandpa! They're rough and tough _gang-members_. I'm just an artist – I'm too _sensitive_ for battle or whatever." So much for the _I want to be stronger_ bit. He gave that up after one training session – Grandpa makes him keep going, but he wants to stop.

"Now you're just usin' that as a crutch to be lazy, little man. You're perfectly good with a sword. Actually, I think you're better than Hitoshi was at your age."

Takao sighs and gropes around the floor for his jeans. He's been sitting in just his boxers for hours, and if grandpa punches him out the window, he doesn't want to be stuck outside in just his boxers. He pulls them on sluggishly as grandpa rattles on about training schedules and whatever else old people talk about when no one is listening to them.

"I'm going out – geez! I'm going!" Takao whines as he flings open his closet door. A pile of clothes engulfs him and grandpa pokes the pile with his kendo sword. "Hey… little man… you alive in there?"

Takao digs his way out of the pile and gasps for air. "Oh my _god_! I didn't think my laundry was _that_ high…" He shakes his bangs out of his eyes and paws through the pile, looking for a shirt to match his tight jeans. Takao only owns tight jeans. And he deems the only type of shirt that goes well with tight jeans are tight shirts.

He pulls a shirt over his head – blue with random polka dots – and grandpa shakes his head again. He doesn't much agree with Takao's taste in clothes. The only reason they haven't been burned is because Hitoshi wants Takao to be able to _express_ himself. Or some nonsense.

But before grandpa can go into another rant about the youth of today Takao darts out of the room and down the stairs. He's only taken his wallet with him – which is empty – and his house keys. Grandpa always locks the doors because the neighborhood is changing, which sounds like something an old person _would _say, but it's true.

It's a little cold outside because the weather is changing. Clouds have rolled in across the sky and blocked out what was left of the sun, and there's barely any humidity in the air. Takao passes a few buildings covered with graffiti and paint. It's ugly, and wasn't there a few weeks ago. But it doesn't look new either.

Maybe he just hadn't noticed how much the area really has changed before this. A couple of guys down an alley eye him up but don't approach. The artist can only assume it's because he looks like he's tough with all his scrapes and bruises. Well, that's what he'd like to _believe_, anyway. He's probably one of the least intimidating guys in the neighborhood.

He doesn't know where he's going. He just lets his body take over while his mind wanders aimlessly, it does that a lot. Takao _could_ go and see his friends or something, but he has this tight feeling in his chest. He doesn't really want to see anyone, yet he doesn't want to be alone. He wants to talk to someone but he doesn't want to say anything.

He doesn't understand it, so he decides to ignore it.

Before he knows it, he's at the foot of the art museum across town. "… Hitoshi used to take me here when I was younger," he says to nobody in particular. There's no one around anyway. Maybe he's just talking to himself. "When was the last time I was here…?" He can't remember. But instead of thinking it over he huffs up the steps and into the museum.

It's cold inside too, but for good reason. If it were warm the paintings would be running or something like that. It's free on weekdays to explore the galleries, and he's never actually _seen_ them all, so he decides to do just that. The floors are shiny and sleek, so he's careful not to walk too quickly. He admires the oil on canvas, the abstract, and the sculptures. All these he has seen before.

That's something comforting about the museum. It hasn't changed since the last time he was there, unlike his neighborhood. He leans over a bench and peers at a tiny sculpture that's made out of cans and bottle-caps. "I guess it was made by someone who loves beer and canned food," he jokes to himself, and moves on.

More sculptures, paintings, and… ah, here. He looks at the sign that says _Recent Artists_ and brushes past it. The museum holds a few galleries of unknown yet talented artists, in hope they'll sponsor someone who will become famous one day. Then they can say Hey We Knew About Him Or Her First! They're smaller rooms and very labyrinth-like.

Weird shapes and colors everywhere. Some of the paintings look worse than his own art, in his opinion, and some are really creative. Boots with bananas in them and laundry baskets with vodka bottles poking out. Very creative. Takao prefers to draw people, but he can appreciate a good idea when he sees it.

He slips into the next room and instantly tenses. The feeling of a nail being dragged up his spine slowly runs through his body. There's another person in this tiny room. This tiny room that is very tiny. And this other person is kind of big. Well, not big but…

It's Kai. He's looking at one of the paintings on the wall, his hands crossed in front of him. He hasn't seen Takao yet, heck, Takao still thinks he has a chance to escape at this point. So he scoots back a little bit. But then Kai turns his head slightly and looks at him out of the corner of his eye.

Oh. Shit. Takao swallows slowly and shoves his hands in his pockets. Between the fact that his throat feels like sandpaper and he's going through hot and cold flashes, he thinks he's going to faint. But his pride - his _stupid_ pride - won't let him walk back out the way he came. Besides, he's too afraid to turn around now. Kai could take that time to reach across the room and tear his spine out of his body.

So he walks forward, Kai's eye – yes, _eye_ – still looking at him. The artist doesn't think Kai's other eye has moved from staring at the painting. Freaky ability. Takao quickly thinks of that story about Medusa and looks away. If there was anyone in real life who could turn someone to stone with a look, it was Kai. Kai doesn't make a move, but his shoulders tense up very slightly when Takao ventures farther into the room. Takao makes a point of staring at the paintings on the wall as he passes them.

The tension in the room is too thick, and Takao knows he has to break it lest he combust or something. "…You're looking at paintings," he says blankly. Kai glares daggers into Takao's face, "No shit." Okay, so Takao hasn't been maimed and hung out to dry yet, that much he knows. But Kai isn't giving off LETS BE FRIENDS vibes, far from it. In fact, it seems like Kai _wants_ to punch Takao in the face or something like that, but something is restraining him.

Takao has no idea what that might be. But he thanks whatever it is. One hundred times over. "Uh. They're nice, these. Paintings. They're better than the ones in the…room over there. That I came from. The room place." His voice is slightly strained and he wipes his sweaty palms against the inside of his pocket-lining. Kai just stares at him like he's crazy. Maybe he should join grandpa in that insane asylum.

The gang-member doesn't say anything; he just goes back to staring at the largest painting in the room with both eyes. Takao peers at it and tilts his head a little bit. It's a painting of a very large house, a mansion maybe, done in a very curious way.

Whoever painted it used the light angles to make the house seem ominous, despite the bright flowers and colors. It was much better than anything Takao had ever painted despite his best efforts.

"This… is really nice!," he says with a twinge of excitement in his voice, "better than anything that I've ever painted. The way the artist used the shade to make this mansion seem…evil…despite the vibe of happiness. Kind of like – not everything is like what it seems, right? And the ones around it are nice too. They're very precise and clean…"

He freezes, suddenly remember that it is _Kai_ standing next to him and not Max or the Chief or even _Grandpa._ "Yeah," Kai says after a moment. And that's all. He doesn't punch Takao in the face or even say Why The Hell Are You Talking To Me?

Which Takao doesn't understand at all. "…H-Hey. Uh. Aren't you going to kill me? I mean. I… got in your way, or whatever." He looks up at the painting blindly as he says this, expecting the worst, "And it's not like anyone would hear my screams in here."

Kai reaches out and Takao tenses again, but Kai just shoves him out of the way. Into the wall, actually. "I'm _not_ going to kill someone in _here_." And he moves past.

He says this like Takao should have known. The artist decides not to question it. Oh, he has questions, but he's not going to ask them. He likes life too much. Kai is leaving the way Takao came in, which explains why he didn't run into him before.

Takao rubs his shoulder and sighs, feeling a new bruise coming on. "Man, whose gallery is this, anyway? I don't see a name…" He's not really speaking to anyone in specific again. And he certainly doesn't expect Kai to actually answer.

Kai doesn't even stop walking – doesn't turn to look at the other boy, "_Mine_."

And then he's gone.

Takao just stands there for a few seconds, not seeing. Just… his mind is in disarray. Kai. A painter? A _good_ painter? It didn't make sense. Noooo, no no no. No. He had destroyed those works in the warehouse just a few days ago and Takao had spat in his face and Takao thinks he remembers a fire but he can't be sure right now because _Kai painted these pictures_ and _why are they here_. Upon closer inspection of the paintings, Takao finds the dates. Just the dates. No signature showing who painted them.

They date a good few years back. He'd have to have been about eight or nine when he painted them - if he wasn't lying – so… that meant he was pretty much a protégé.

Takao leaves the room with weird feeling in his stomach. That Kai guy – there was more to him than just the Scary Guy Who Eats Babies. He doesn't even look at the other paintings as he leaves, and when he gets outside he heads in the direction of Max's house.

He's just had a brush with death and he needs to tell his best buddy about it, after all!

He greets Max's dad as he hops over the fence and walks right on into the house. He's sweaty because he has just sprinted there from the museum, and …Max's house isn't anywhere near the museum. "Takaoooooo. It's so late, what're you doing here?" Max asks as he tosses his game controller to the side.

"Sorry, am I interrupting you playing an H game?" Takao teases and Max throws his pillow at him. "You know my dad screens all the games I buy! What's up?"

Takao prepares to tell Max about meeting Kai and not dying even though he had the perfect chance to beat the shit out of him and leave him for dead, but then stops. Max looks at him expectantly and Takao tries again, "I…"

He stands there for about seven minutes before Max begins to loose patience. "C'mon, Takao! What's the matter; did sprinting over here kill all your memory brain cells?" "No!" Takao huffs, and he throws the pillow the Max threw at him before back at the blond. "I… uh. The ice cream man accidentally gave me two ice cream bars instead of one. And I only had to pay for one! Isn't that good luck?! Hah…ahahahh…!"

He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand. Max deadpans and looks at him with an expression that says You Are An Idiot Why Am I Friends With You. "… So you felt the need to sprint over here at eight o'clock and tell me this…why?"

Takao shrugs his shoulders and sits down on the couch, "I'll leave in a few minutes. I guess I just wanted to see you, is all. It's been a few days. How're you feeling?" Max shrugs and shakes his hand a little bit, "Sore. That left hook I had to throw probably hurt me more than it hurt that guy. But since I'm not dead, I guess it was worth it."

They both laugh and throw a few more pillows around. "Have you spoken to the Chief lately?" Max asks, and Takao shakes his head, "Nope. I haven't spoken to anyone in days, besides grandpa. He actually kicked me out of the house tonight. I probably can't go back until ten before he's satisfied."

Max makes a horrified expression. "_At least ten_? It's not safe enough to be running around so late, Takao! You never know what people are…" "Grandpa doesn't seem to care," Takao snorts, "And maybe he's right! If I go out at night and people get used to seeing me around, maybe they'll leave me alone. They probably only go after guys like us because they know we're scared." Takao feels like he's channeling Hitoshi for some reason, but quickly brushes off that thought. He dislikes the thought of channeling Hitoshi.

Max is silent for a moment, and then he sighs. "Maybe you're right. But my dad'll never buy logic like that. I'll see you tomorrow, Takao." Takao stands and brushes off his jeans. "If I live that long, you mean!" He laughs but Max seems grim. "…Don't worry, okay, buddy?"

It's not raining when Takao gets back outside, but it sure looks like it's going to. Like he told Max, grandpa isn't expecting him back for another hour or so. So he walks again. If the sun was actually visible he'd be able to see it setting. Or be nearly set. Whichever. He hears a girl saying something from around the bend and doesn't think too much on it as he approaches. But when he sees her cornered by a bunch of thugs, he can't just walk away.

She's yelling at them, something she _should not be doing_ if she wants to calm them down. "Get _away_ from me, you creeps! You're in _my_ territory!" Her bright pink hair bristles as she speaks and her pupils narrow dangerously. Yes, Takao is _this close_ to a possible rape scene.

The girl's eyes land on him, and while she seems tough, he can sense the plea for help. Any help. The guys haven't noticed him yet and they're just _laughing_. "Hah! Rei lets his girl walk around alone? Even on his territory? He should know that it's _dangerous_ to do something like that."

"I am _not_ his girl, I'm not anyone's girl!" she growls, her back pressed against the brick of the convenience store. Takao spies just what he needs in the garbage right on his side, a pipe. It's no shinai, but it'll work. He pulls it out of the box it's standing in quietly, and holds it tightly. "Hey! What kinda guys are you, harassing a pretty girl like that?"

That's when Takao knows they're not going to get out of this without a fight. The pink haired girl knows that, and she's already pinned Takao as an ally. She swings her leg up with extreme force and slams one of the guys right in between his two legs.

Ouch.

He screams and staggers over, clutching his crotch. Tears stream out of his eyes, and he finally falls over. Takao winces but doesn't look away. He knows how much that kind of thing can hurt – jungle gym, age seven.

Two guys charge Takao and he dodges them with careful planning. He uses both hands to swing the pipe and hit one of the guys in the side. He feels his heart stop when he feels that _crunch_ – broken bone. Oh god, he had broken someone's rib. Maybe _two_.

He doubles over and then falls at Takao's feet, and Takao just stares down at him. "Watch yourself!" yells the pink haired girl as she kicks a guy who was charging Takao from behind, "Don't lose focus!" He swallows and then turns, just in time to lift the pipe in a defensive move so someone's fist wouldn't come down on his face. She swings her leg again and gets the guy in the gut, and he swings his hand at her. Takao swings the pipe and lands one right on his leg, which makes him lose balance and fall.

Once the thugs are unconscious, the girl huffs and then brushes her bangs out of her eyes. She flashes a catlike grin at Takao, "Hey, not to shabby there, Kiddo." "Kiddo? C'mon, we've gotta be the same ago!" Takao jokes, though he's not really in a joking kind of mood.

She tosses her hair, "I'm Mao. …Thanks. You didn't have to help me." Takao drops the pipe and shrugs his shoulders, "Well, I wasn't going to leave you alone with those guys. I'm Takao."

"Takao…You from a particular group?" she asks, leaning in a little bit to get a good look at his face. He blinks, and then shakes his head, "Wha…oh, no." "Great! Come with me, then, I'm sure Rei'd love to meet you!"

And before he can even say anything, Mao has grabbed his hand and is dragging him deeper into the … well, what his grandpa would call the ghetto. This is the area directly opposite the docks. There are the docks, Takao's house, Max's house, the Chief's house, and then this place.

"Rei? Who is that?" He asks blankly. He was mentioned before, wasn't he? "Rei is the leader of the White Tigers," she says without batting an eyelash, "You hear of the Bladesharks? We're kind of like them, I guess. Only we're _good._" A good gang. Takao didn't think he'd ever see the day. Wait…did she want him to join..?

"I'm just an artist!" he blurts out, flailing his free hand, "An artist who likes to _paint things_ and not fight." She laughs, "Oh, come off! You showed skill back there! Plus, you saved me. Rei would want to thank you personally for saving one of his _best friends_, you know? He'd hunt you down either way, so might as well get it over with, right?"

"I didn't save you. I just helped you," Takao mumbles, but he knows she has a point. "Whatever. As long as I'm home before ten." Mao just laughs, laughs, and laughs.

**A/N: Hey guys! Thanks to everyone who reviewed the story or…even just read it – I really appreciate your interest! This chapter turned out longer than I expected it would, but I hope it's still a length that isn't too long or whatever. Takao meets Kai in his "special place"! If you were wondering, the reason why Kai won't fight anyone in there is…well, ohoho, you'll just have to wait to find out, won't you? This actually took a turn from what I expected to write, and I actually really like this. Rei shows up next chapter! Ever the last one, eh, Rei? Next chapter will probably pick up in the "what the heck is with the gangs" thing. Rei is good at explaining crap. There'll be more Kai and Takao interaction, CHIEF WILL BE IN IT hopefully, maybe. Max will also have more of a part. I don't know, we'll see how this goes! There were lots of hints in this chapter, **_**lots**_** of hints. Just saying! ;) **


	4. Chapter 4

They head down an extensive labyrinth of alleyways and streets; so many that Takao doesn't think he'll ever find his way back home. At least… not before ten. If only he had a pair of glass slippers that he could knock together three times to find his way home –wait, were the slippers glass? Or were they some other color? Topaz? Oh, he can't remember right now.

Mao leads him down another street and ducks under a pile of trash and through a tube. Yes, a tube. Through a pile of trash. A pile of stinking trash that stings Takao's nostrils and burns his eyes. "Oh my _God_," he mutters and mumbles as he crawls after Mao through the tunnel. "Sorry about this," she says with sympathy, "but it's the best hiding place we've got. Not just anyone can come meet Rei, you know."

Takao shrugs even though she can't see it – she's in front of him in the tunnel. "It's fine. It kind of smells like my room when it's hot out. I've got all these paintings made out of random things and grandpa _refuses_ to put on the air conditioner." Mao laughs a little bit, "Oh I know how that is. Our leader is kind of similar… he's a little eccentric." "Rei?" Takao asks and Mao makes a little grunting noise, "No."

"…I thought Rei was-"

"He is," she cuts him off, "but our _leader_ is the one who guides us and gives us wisdom. He's the reason we're a good gang." Takao frowns as he crushes a spider with his hand. Ew. Spider guts. He awkwardly wipes his hand on his jeans to get rid of the residue. "I don't even get why there are gangs, anyway," he says, "I mean…three years ago things weren't this bad. Everything just _crashed_ and burned for some reason. What the heck happened…?"

Mao stays silent and crawls out of the tunnel without answering his question. Takao figures that it must be a bit of a sensitive subject with her. Hitoshi always said that kids were in gangs because of dead parents or…dead-beat parents. Neither of those things was particularly good. For once, Takao is glad he has his older brother and grandfather. Even if they're both…weird.

Takao pulls himself out of the tunnel and grunts when he steps in a puddle of mud. So much for keeping the hand-me-downs from Hitoshi in decent shape until they could afford new sneakers. Things were tight at the house, despite the fact that Takao's family was one of the more fortunate ones. He was lucky, despite the fact that grandpa didn't much approve of his artistic tendencies, he still bought him supplies to use. And art supplies are expensive.

"We're here!" Mao says with a laugh and a hair toss, "About your question, Rei knows more about it than I do, so you should ask him if you really want to know. Or Lee, for that matter. Lee is second-in-command." Takao rolled his eyes at the gang-lineage, first-in-command …second-in-command…blah blah _blah_. Stupid gangs and their …gang-ness. Oh God… Takao _was about to meet a gang leader._

Mao pushes her back against the large door in front of them and uses _all of her might_ to push it open. Takao would have helped her but he was too busy watching her in awe. "Wow Mao! You're a total beast!" She shoots him a glare, "I'll take that as a compliment because you're kind of stupid, okay?" "I-I meant it as one, honest!" Takao says with a slight flail of the arms, "I'm not great at giving compliments!" She laughs again, "Its fine! Like I said, you're kind of stupid."

"…Oi, Mao."

She rolls her eyes and moves back so he can walk past her. "I've gotta pull the door closed too, so get your tight jeans in here, okay?" Takao grins, "Oho~ another girl who can't resist my sense of style!" Mao rolls her eyes again, "Resist? More like it's impossible to miss! Those jeans are tighter than any pair I own, you know?" He laughs and walks past her, into the darkness. "So… are there any lights in here or are you just trying to creep me out?"

"Depends! Are you creeped out?" She asks without missing a step. "Oh, no way!" he lies though his teeth, "Takao Kinomiya fears no one! Takao Kinomiya is a man among men! Takao Kinomiya-" "Needs to explain why exactly he's _here_," replies a gruff voice, and Takao lets out a scared squeak. Along with an awkward chocking noise.

"Lee!" Mao says sharply, "Don't do that! You might give him a heart attack!" Lee laughs dangerously and watches Takao as the artist clutches his chest and nods in agreement. "Oh, come on! He was just saying how manly and tough he is." Mao makes a little hissing noise by pressing her tongue against her teeth, "You can tell that's not true by just looking at him. I mean, he's scrawnier than _me_, you know?"

"…Thanks, Mao," Takao deadpans as he stares at the girl, "Oh, hey! When did the lights turn on?" Mao shrugs, "They do that when they feel like it. This is Lee, if my yelling his name before didn't give you any indication of that. Lee, this is Takao. He helped me when some thugs were cornering me." Lee turns his look back to Takao and makes a little noise that sounds like a chortle of laughter to Takao if he's ever heard one. "Hey!" Takao instantly protests, "I may not be jacked like everyone else on the planet but I've got skills!"

"I would hope so," Lee says with a cocky drawl, "Or else I'd be questioning Mao's sanity right now." She sticks a tongue out at him while he's not looking and Takao grins a bit, regaining some of his lost confidence. "Yeah well, I'm pretty good at Kendo. Sword-fighting, things like that." Lee actually looks impressed for about three seconds, "So why is he here, anyway? Is he your new boyfriend or something? Rei wouldn't like that too much."

Mao tugs on the end of her ponytail, "No, nothing like that. He really helped me out and you know how Rei gets when he thinks he has to repay a favor. Rather bring him here than have to hunt him down later, right?" Lee gives a curt nod and Takao begins to wonder if he's there because she genuinely wants to thank him or because she's just being lazy. He's really starting to think it's the second one right about now.

"…Well, c'mon, then," Lee grunts, "The sooner this is done the sooner you can get out of here." "Way to make me feel welcome, man," Takao replies back quickly and Lee tilts his chin up. "Outsiders aren't welcome." Takao tosses his hair, "Yeah, no shit." Mao gives Lee a smack on the back of the head, "Hey! We're wasting precious time by standing here arguing!" So in they go. There are hallways beyond hallways, and Takao can't remember half of the turns they take.

Finally, the reach a room where the rest of the gang is hanging out. People are sprawled across furniture and the floor, laughing and some of them are sleeping. There's a picture of a large white tiger on the wall, and Takao manages to examine it briefly before Lee pushes him along. Some of the kids look up at him and watch him, but most of them just ignore him all together. In the back of the room there's a young man with sharp yellow eyes and …pointy cat-like teeth. Takao stares at him for a few moments and he simply stares back, as though he's used to this sort of treatment.

But the expression on his face is priceless when Takao points a finger and calls him, "Kitty!" Lee falls into laps of laughter and Mao presses her hands against her mouth to hide her grin. "R-R-Rei…" Mao puffs, "This is Takao. He s-sa..haha!! Oh, sorry! Um, he saved me from some thugs before. And I know how you like to th-thank people who help members of the White Tigers." Takao rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, "Aha… Sorry! I just kind of say what's on my mind sometimes… no one's ever told you that? Really?"

Rei regains his composure after a few more moments of shock. "A-Ah…no, it's fine. I was just caught off guard, that doesn't happen too often. So, you helped Mao? You have the thanks of the White Tigers. If there is anything we can do for you, do not hesitate to ask. We owe you one!" Takao takes a glance at Mao and then looks back at Rei, "Actually… I have a question. Why did all these gangs just start showing up out of nowhere? Why are things like this? It wasn't like this three years ago."

"Hmm. Okay. I don't know everything but I know what…basically happened-"

But before Rei can finish his sentence, the gang-members are going hectic. "Story time! Guys, its story time! Wake up Kiki, it' story time! Rei is gunna tell a _story_." In a matter of five minutes everyone is sprawled out on a pillow in front of Rei, even Takao, even though he didn't move to get a pillow. Some huge guy had tossed him down on one.

"Three years ago a man named Boris began to get involved in the politics of Beycity. I don't know exactly what he did … but prices went up on a lot of things and a lot of people lost their jobs. Lots of orphanages lost their income so the kids were pretty much kicked onto the streets. Some parents just…couldn't support their kids anymore or had no time for them because they had to work three different jobs at once. " Rei bows his head as he speaks and some of the kids nod their heads. Takao assumes that they're some of the ones who were kicked out of a home.

"Anyway…. Boris started this. He has ties with some of the older guys in gangs, too, though we're not sure who. Kids who had nowhere to go started to get together to survive. But you know what happens when kids run amuck in a neighborhood that's already going downhill. Things began to change… just like Boris wanted. He's out for just himself. He probably wants to take over the city once everyone who can stop him is out of his way."

Takao nods his head and leans back against one of the kids, and they don't seem to mind. "…And it'll probably only get worse," Rei says, "Until Boris gets everything he wants. Not unless someone stops him." The kids murmur among themselves and Takao finally gets why Mao was saying that the White Tigers were a good gang. "You guys are going to try to stop him, aren't you?"

Rei gives Takao a curt nod. "That's right. And I know we'll succeed. It'll take a little time but soon enough everything will be better, and we'll all be able to go home…or find homes." Takao stands and brushes off his jeans, "Well… Rei. I… that's great. If there's anything I can do to help you guys beat him, ask me. Because I want things to be back to normal again too." Rei looks at Takao for a moment, and then grins. "Really? Do you have any skills?"

Takao laughs, "Of course! I'm not the greatest artist, but I'd be more than happy to paint some propaganda posters bashing this Boris guy." Mao rolls her eyes and Rei laughs, much to everyone's surprise, "Draw him with one of those stupid curly mustaches and we have a deal!" Lee coughs and sends Rei a look, but the two boys are too busy chumming it up to notice.

"But seriously," Rei says after a few more bad jokes are shared, "do you have any fighting ability?" Takao shrugs his shoulders, "I know Kendo and basic martial arts. My Kendo is pretty good because I train pretty much every day." Rei nods and taps his fingers against his leg, "Hmm. Alright. From now on, you're welcome here, Takao Kinomiya, for as long as you'd like." Takao isn't sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing. Both, probably. Now he's friends with a gang so he can probably walk safe at night now! But he's…friends _with a gang._

"O-Oh, man, really? Thanks! I'm sure we'll be great friends!" Takao laughs, giving Rei a highfive. "I'll walk you out," Rei says, "You probably won't be able to find your way out by yourself." Takao shakes his head, "Nah, you guys are crazy good with confusing people. That'd be great, Rei! Uh, what time is it…anyway?" Mao perks her head up from a pile of kids, "About one o'clock, why?"

Takao's jaw drops. "One!?! _ONE!?!_" Lee rolls his eyes, "What, past your curfew?" "YES," Takao gasps, "Holy shit I have to _get home_ oh my GOD my grandpa is going to _kill_ me." Rei leaps up from his seat with cat-like grace. "Alright. Lee, come with us. Everyone else…we'll be back soon. So try not to trash the room while we're gone?"

Again, they're going through the twists and turns of the halls of this place. It feels like forever until they reach the front door. Takao groans to himself a little bit as Rei shoves the front door open. But Rei does it much quicker than Mao, the guy must be really strong. They head out and back into the stinky tunnel that makes Takao want to cry. But once they get out of the tunnel, he instantly wants to go back in.

"Bladesharks," Lee snarls as Carlos eyes him up, "You're on _our_ territory. Back off." "I don't see your _name_ on it," Carlos snarls back, and Lee just points to the fence on his right. In huge white letters reads WHITE TIGERS. "Unless you can't _read_," Rei says with the lift of his chin. Carlos glares at the fence for a moment, and then looks back at the boys. Takao wishes he could sink back into the shadows, but Kai isn't there, so he doesn't think he's in any immediate danger.

But Carlos notices him. "Hey, you're—Kinomiya!" Takao swallows, "Uh. Yo! Carlos, right? Hah..hahaha!" "I didn't know you were part of the White Tigers – so you ARE part of a rival gang!" Rei snarls a little bit, "Back _off_ and get out of my sight. You don't wanna mess with me, do you? It's three on three, but I think we're more than a match for the likes of you." Carlos grins, "Oh, don't worry. We're not going to mess with you tonight. We were just doing some _snooping_. You know."

Rei crosses his arms, "Well, your snooping stops here. Lee crosses his arms as well, and Takao follows suit, trying to not stand out in any way. The only thing that keeps running through his mind is _I Am An Artist Why Am I Here Oh My God Grandpa Is Going To Kill Me._

Carlos shrugs, "Fine, fine. We'll get off your turf. This time. But now that we know where your little tunnel is…well, we'll be back. This'll be our area soon enough." Carlos turns on his heel and walks away without awaiting an answer from Rei. He knows he's safe, Rei has too many morals to attack from behind. Lee huffs and makes to go after them, but Rei holds a hand out. "Don't worry about them. They're of no concern."

"…They know where you guys are, though," Takao says, "Aren't you worried?" "No," Rei replies, "The hallways in the house are like that for a reason. They'll never find their way to our room before we find out they've gotten in. And I'd like to see them try and burn it down." Takao nods his head and doesn't say anything more about it. Rei seems certain, but Lee doesn't seem too sure. Takao can tell.

"…Okay. Uh, I don't really know how to get home from here…" Takao says with a little laugh and a sheepish neck-rub. "Oh, right," Rei says "I'll help you get back."

Takao just hopes that Grandpa hasn't noticed he's been gone for so long. He _really _hopes so.

-----

Turns out, Grandpa hadn't missed him at all. Grandpa just went to bed at his usual time of ten o'clock and _didn't even leave the door unlocked_. Which is why Takao was sleeping on the porch. Which is why Hitoshi found him sleeping on the porch in the morning when he came home from being on the road for over a month. Which is why Takao was now sporting a very nice bruise on his face.

"Hitoshiiiii," Takao groans as his older brother leers over him in the kitchen, "I'm telling you, it's not my fault! Grandpa locked the door before I got home! How was I supposed to know!?" "You should have been home before grandpa locked the door, Takao. You _know_ that." "Oh, c'mon!" Takao sighed, "I'm not a _baby_; you don't have to treat me like one."

"I wouldn't punch a baby in the face," Hitoshi responds, to which Takao has to repress a _Yes You Totally Would._ That would just get him _another_ punch in the face. "Sorry…" he mutters as he rests his forehead on his arm, "I just lost track of the time. I didn't know you were coming home today either." "I wasn't," Hitoshi says with a sigh as he places his suitcase down on the kitchen counter. "I decided to pop in on my favorite baby brother to see how he was doing."

Takao rolls his eyes, "I'm your only brother, and if I wasn't I doubt I'd be your favorite." Hitoshi laughs a little bit. "Yeah, well. I'm not staying long. I just wanted to give you something." Takao looks up at his brother, "Give me something?" Hitoshi clicks open the suitcase and it falls open, revealing a new set of paints. "They weren't cheap, but I knew you'd like them, so I got them anyway."

That Hitoshi. Always doing something mean like punching him in the face and then doing something nice right after it so the punch was void. Takao takes the package and opens the front flap gingerly, "…Gee. You…didn't have to get me anything, Hitoshi." "I know," Hitoshi responds with an arched eyebrow, "Well? Don't I get a hug?" Takao rolls his eyes, "You know I'm too old for that kind of thing!"

"Tch, whatever."

"…Thanks, bro."

Grandpa takes this moment to grace the boys with his magnificent presence, "Mornin' T-man! Hitoshi, when'd you get back? You weren't supposed to head here till next week, no?" "I'm just here for a little visit," Hitoshi says airily, "Don't need to get all worked up about it. It's not good for your blood pressure." "My blood pressure is off the heezy!" Grandpa complains, and Takao rolls his eyes.

"I'm going to use these paints on my new painting. I even have a fresh new canvas waiting for this. I'm going to paint a beach, but not just any beach! A beach in _space._" "…A beach in space, Takao? That's stupid," Hitoshi scoffs, "Don't waste the paint on something you're going to quit halfway through." "I'm not going to quit this one!" Takao replies quickly, "This is going to be my best yet!"

Grandpa sets the kettle on the stove and flicks on the gas as Hitoshi closes his suitcase again, "Sure, Takao. I believe you. Well, I'd better get going. My next plane leaves within the hour. See you next week, hm?" Takao follows Hitoshi out of the room and leans against the wall as his older brother slips on his shoes, "Did you really come here to just give me those paints?"

"What? I can do something nice without an ulterior motive, can't I?" Hitoshi says with a smile and Takao just shakes his head _no_. "Don't worry about it, Takao," Hitoshi says as he stands up and reaches for the door. Takao quickly hugs his brother from behind before darting back into the kitchen. Hitoshi stands there for a few seconds, surprised, and then smiles a little bit.

"Too old for hugs, huh?"

Takao spends the next few days cramped up in his room painting his newest inspiration with the new paints. He doesn't paint recklessly like he normally does; rather, he starts out with very basic colors for a general gist. Grandpa pokes his head in every so often to watch his grandson and to pry him out for his daily kendo lessons.

Once a week passes grandpa decides to toss Takao out on his rump again. "Geez, grandpa! Fine, I'll go somewhere." He moans as he slips into his mud-caked shoes, "And can't I get new shoes soon?" Grandpa just waves him off with the kendo stick, which Takao takes as a no. He pounds the pavement and picks at the paint stains on his hands.

As he walks the smell of hotdogs drifts past his nose and his mouth waters. He turns down the street and heads over to the stand and buys three hotdogs and two sodas. The man behind the stand watches in awe as Takao devours two of the hotdogs with ease, and carries the rest of his foodstuffs away. He reaches the art museum again and sits on the steps outside with his final hotdog and sips on one of the sodas. Once he's done with the hotdog he slips inside the building to do some more exploring.

Okay, that's not exactly true. He's going to go back to that gallery – Kai's gallery –and have a good look around. He heads into the new artist gallery and looks around. Everything is the same, which is…understandable, considering it hasn't been that long since he's last been there. When he gets to the gallery he wants to see, he peeks inside, half expecting Kai to be in there again. But it's empty. He gives a sigh of relief and steps in.

The paintings are all beautiful as he remembers. Bright colors, beautiful precision, craft strokes… but there's something missing. Something Takao just…can't put his finger on for the life of him. They're stunning paintings but they're…cold. Like ice.

Which makes sense to Takao. Kai is like, the king of ice. With eyeballs that do weird things and…very buff arms. Yes. No more thinking about Kai and his buff arms. That might be bad luck—

"What are you doing here?"

Takao tenses up and his heart starts racing. He turns his head slowly and sees none other than the infamous Kai. "Um…nothing?"

He can barely speak, but his mind is screaming. _Oh my god look what happened I knew this was a bad idea why is he here he's going to kill me why does this always happen people always sneak up on me oh my God grandpa I'm sorry I didn't live a very good life and was a terrible grandson. _

Kai does not look amused in the least. Takao stares at the older boy and then holds out the soda he hasn't touched. "Want..some…soda…?" Kai stares at the cup, Takao, the cup, Takao, the cup, and then Takao again. All without the expression on his face changing. "I don't like soda."

"What do you like, then?" Takao asks nervously, trying to keep Kai's mind off of the subject of death and how to make someone experience it. Kai takes a step forward and Takao kind of wants to cry, but Kai just brushes past him to look at the painting of the mansion on the wall. Takao takes a few steps back and slips to the floor, sitting Indian style and looking up at Kai's imposing back.

"What do you li—" Before Takao can finish asking the question a second time, Kai stalks out of the room without a second glance back. Takao sits on the floor, flabbergasted with a fluttering heart. Oh God, he was going to get grey hairs, and he knew it. But…something pings in the back of his mind. There's something about this Kai that he just…_needs_ to unravel. _Why_ won't he beat the shit out of him in this room? Or this museum, for that matter?

The next day Takao waits in Kai's gallery again but Kai never shows. The next day, the next day, and the next day, but Kai is a no show. Finally, Kai comes back. Takao is sitting on the floor of the gallery, sipping a soda casually. He's gotten so used to expecting Kai to walk in that when he finally does he isn't phased. He just looks up at Kai and points at the water bottle to his left. "You never told me what you like, so I just brought water."

Kai stares at him like he's absolutely insane, but doesn't ignore him this time around. "Do you _sleep_ in here or something?" he asks with an agitated twinge laced in his voice. Takao shakes his head, "No! I just… I like the museum, and this room has the best heating. It's all the way in the back. It's getting cold outside." Kai rolls his eyes, "So you decide to sit in here? The next room over is warmer."

"I'm a delicate boy. I can't take _too _much heat." Kai sits across from Takao, on the floor as well, and shoots daggers into the other boy's face. "Go _away._" Takao swallows a little bit and then shrugs, "It's a free world! I can sit wherever I want until museum security drags me away." "Or I do." Kai responds promptly and Takao laughs nervously, "A-aw, come on. I'm not hurting you!"

"You spat in my face."

"You destroyed a bunch of famous paintings! I think you deserved it."

Kai just stares at him now and Takao slides the water bottle over to him. Kai looks at it and then back at Takao. "You look thirsty!" Takao says, neglecting to mention that Kai looks _thirsty for blood_ and not water. Kai shrugs and looks at the wall, very intent on not looking at Takao Kinomiya.

"…Gee, Kai. Do you always turn down the things you want?" Takao asks with an eyeroll. Kai looks at Takao like he wants to say something, but changes his mind. Instead, he grabs the water bottle and flings it at Takao. Because Takao doesn't have the reflexes of a cat like Rei or even one of an athlete like Max, it hits him hard in the chest. He groans in pain, "_Jesus Christ._"

"That's for spitting in my face." With that, Kai gets up and walks swiftly out of the room.

The next day Takao is there again, sporting paint stains on his face and hands, with a new soda for himself and a new water bottle for Kai. Only this time he's changed the brand of water. Kai sits across from him again with the same face. Takao talks about random things and Kai just…sits there and glares at him.

"You don't talk much, do you?" Takao says finally and Kai looks at the wall, "No shit." Takao slides the water bottle to Kai who ignores it as usual, and pulls his knees up to his chest. "….So….why do you come here if you don't like paintings?"

"…Why do _you_ come here if you know I'm going to be here?" Kai replies while still looking at the wall. "I'm curious," Takao says, "I don't know. My grandpa likes it when I get out of the house too. I usually spend most of the day in my room painting."

"So you spend the rest of the day stalking me?" Kai asks without humor. Takao laughs and rubs the back of his neck, "Well it's not like…well… no, really!" Kai sighs and gets up without another word and leaves. This happens for a good amount of time. Takao waits for Kai to show up for a few days, they talk for about ten minutes, and then Kai leaves and Takao sprints out of the museum before Kai can decide to come back and finally beat him up.

The leaves on the trees begin to fall and school starts up again, a little later this year due to Governor Boris's decree. Takao's painting still isn't finished, but he's in no rush to complete it. He's continued his random dealings with Kai, much to the older boy's displeasure.

"Gee, Takao," Max says one day, "You sure have been spending a lot of time at the museum. "Not really," Takao replies without missing a beat, "I just like to go there for inspiration. An artist needs inspiration." Max laughs and shakes his head, "Sure, buddy." Takao stands and slips his book-bag onto his back, "I'm actually headed there now. My inspiration tanks are a little low; I need to pump them up!"

Max rolls his eyes, "Sure things Takao. Just make sure you come back within Curfew." Takao grabs a water bottle from his desk, "Don't I always?"

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed or faved the last chapter! I really appreciate your interest in this silly little story. I wonder, can any pinpoint the random thing that symbolizes Takao in this chapter? It's pretty obvious butttt I want to know how obvious~! Uhmmm… Yes. I have a feeling this will end soon because it's just a mini-story, butttt. Thank you, readers! Feel free to review or crit or w/e, I appreciate it all. **


	5. Chapter 5

Despite his hasty departure from school, Takao doesn't run to the museum. Instead, he takes his time and walks there at a leisurely pace. The trees are beginning to look brown and barren, and kids are bundled up in sweaters and hats – it's not cold enough for bulky jackets yet, but there's enough chill to give you a cold if you wander around in a T-shirt. Which, as it happened, was exactly what Takao was wearing. He rubs his hands together to warm them, and quickens his step a bit when he passes a group of kids eying him up. Things have gotten worse again, over the span of a month or so, and there seemed to be gang action in the middle of the day now, not just after the sun has gone down.

In spite of all that, though, Takao can't help but to think that it's really beautiful out. It's poetic, in a way, and it's exactly the kind of thing he'd like to paint. Not that he has the time to take on another project, between his main one right now and his kendo practices.

He quickens his step when the museum comes into sight, and pretends he's Rocky Balboa as he runs up the steps. There are only about 15 of them, but that's more than enough for Takao to pretend he's an awesome athlete with. A month ago his breath would be labored from that athletic feat, but ever since he had been forced to keep up with his training regiment, things like this had gotten easier without him really noticing.

He gains entrance into the museum quickly – he's such a common face there now, they don't bother him when he comes in on weekdays anymore. It's become a routine, really. Takao comes to the museum every day and hangs out in Kai's art room, Kai comes by once or twice a week, Takao talks about nonsense and Kai stares daggers at him until Takao finally says something dumb enough to make Kai leave for the day. It doesn't take long, really, usually about 20 minutes or so. Takao's best time is 3 minutes, counting from the second Kai stepped into the room. Though he's honestly proudest of the hour and a half that he hadn't messed up, one day not too long ago, where they had spoken – yes, they had actually _conversed_ – about a few things.

Kai is, without a doubt, a puzzle. Takao was never good at puzzles, he sucked so much at tetris that he had thrown the tetris game he had gotten for his 6th birthday out the window after three days of trying to beat one game. The difference between Kai and tetris, however, is that Kai is endlessly intriguing.

There's something about the guy that keeps pulling him back to that little room filled with curious paintings. And, for whatever reason, Kai won't punch Takao in the face in there. Something that Takao is _eternally__grateful_ for, by the way. As it stands, Takao is rather fond of his nose being the shape it is, and not having a perpetual black eye. He has weird feelings when it comes to Kai – he's scared that he's going to whip around and kill him at any moment, but when they're just sitting on the floor across from each other in that tiny room, he enjoys the other boy's company.

And if he were the type to be vain (which, by the way, he totally is) from the way Kai acts sometimes, Takao thinks that Kai doesn't really hate him as much as he puts on.

He slips into the room, and notes that it's empty. It usually is – he's only come in to find Kai before him a handful of times, and none of them had been recently. Instead of sitting down against the wall in his usual spot, though, he slips up to the painting of the mansion and studies it. He does this sometimes, before Kai comes, because... it really is beautiful. Kai has talent, that much is evident – what Takao really wants to ask sometimes is if there are any recent paintings he can see. He never asks, though. This goes back to the fact that he likes his nose the way it is.

He studies the painting for a long time before settling back into his usual spot. After glancing at his watch (another hand-me-down from Hitoshi) he finally pushes himself up off the floor and starts to head home. Another day of Kai being a no-show, huh? For some reason, he finds himself being disappointed, and then confused. What the hell, self? You could have spent today hanging out with Maxie, who didn't even have football practice due to the field having been vandalized last night, yet you ran off to wait around for Kai like some sort of crazy ex-girlfriend. Frowning to himself, Takao shoves his paint stained hands into his pockets.

_What the hell...? This guy wants to beat me up! _

After kicking around some leaves angrily, he finally makes up his mind – he's not going to go back to the museum tomorrow.

Within seconds of getting in the door and kicking his shoes off, getting crusted dirt everywhere in the process, grandpa is on him like white on rice. "Hey, T-man, c'mon, you're late for training!" the old man says, tapping his Shinai on the floor threateningly, "You're so late, you're gonna make me miss my Soaps! Now I'll never know of Rhonda is really Joyce's twin sister, or if she's a clone." Takao makes a face, "Aw, c'mon! It's not like those shows are really any good anyway!" but Grandpa won't hear any of that nonsense. Before he knows it, he's been pushed into the dojo, a Shinai of his own in hand.

Swing, thrust, pull back, turn, swing, thrust, pull back, turn... even though training almost made him too tired to sketch at night, the motions really did help him get rid of some stress. In fact, it was almost enjoyable – it would be in truth, if Grandpa didn't randomly decide to attack him at times. He ends up with more bruises than a summer peach most nights, and that was saying something! With every stroke, he gets out a little of his aggression. And, unsurprisingly, a lot of that aggression is towards Kai.

_Stupid Kai._

Swing.

Stupid me. Waiting around for that guy every day.

Swing.

_What's up with him, anyway? He's such a drama queen, that's what he is. I can't even talk to him for five minutes without him walking off, all dramatic-like!_

Swing.

_What's his problem with art, anyway? _

Swing.

_Ugh! Why do I keep thinking about that asshole...? _

Swing. Swing swing swing.

_It's not even like we're friends..._

He halts, mid-swing. It's true, isn't it? They're not friends, not at all. Is that whats been bothering him...? The fact that they aren't friends? After another few swings, he's decides, that must be it. Despite the fact that Kai is scary, mean, deadly, an asshole, rude, and intimidating – he still wants to be friends with him. And it bothers him, on some sort of weird subconscious level, that Kai doesn't want that at all. Man, when had he started wanting to be friends with that guy? Damn it, inner self!

He swings the blade hard now, violently so, almost as though he's simply flailing in frustration. In the midst of his angry swinging, he doesn't notice grandpa creep up on him. He doesn't notice the old man begin to charge and leap into the air. But he does certainly notice, however, when the wooden blade cracks down on his head. After a sharp pain and everything going blurry, everything is suddenly black.

When he comes to, he's in his bed, with a cloth on his forehead. Grandpa is at his side, looking down at him, a worried expressing etched across his old face. The lines around his eyes, Takao notices, seem deeper. They lighten a little when Grandpa notices that Takao has finally woken up. "You had me worried there, T-man! I thought I'd done you in for good. See, this is why you gotta keep your wits sharp like knives at all times!" Takao blinks, and two seconds later, a pounding headache erupts in his brain. "Aahhhhh!" he whines, his hands flying up to his forehead and pressing, like he can squish down the pain by pressing on it, "What happened?" Grandpa snorts, "You weren't paying attention, and I got you good! Let this be a lesson to you, little man."

Takao whines again, "Grandpa, I'm _starving_ and _gross_ and my head really _hurts_." Grandpa shrugs, "And what do you want me to do about it? You're not that hurt, so see to that stuff yourself! I've gotta go catch the end of my Soaps." The old man leaves, relief nearly pouring out of every move he makes, he's clearly glad his grandson is fine, if not a little worse for wear. Takao glances at his alarm clock – he's only been out for about five minutes, but the fact that he hadn't gotten up right away was probably enough cause for Grandpa to worry. There was no way Hitoshi was going to be hearing about _this_ little mishap – he'd rush right home, and in no way did Takao want that.

After a few moments of wallowing in self pity, Takao swings his legs over the side of his bed and stands up. His head is still throbbing, but otherwise he's in fine shape. Glancing around his room, he spots his current work in progress sitting on his easel. He'd hit a bit of a snag in how to blend colors to make the sand look like sand and not just a big blob of oatmeal, but looking at it now, he has an idea. Sitting down in front of the painting, he spreads some blue and purple out on his paint board.

He paints through the night. He sleeps when dawn breaks, and wakes up sometime around 4 pm. He checks his phone, texts Max back that "Yes I Am Still Alive And Not a Zombie", and goes back to painting. He paints until the sun sets, only stopping to devour two times his weight in hot pockets and to do some kendo drills, but then he's right back to the canvas.

Maybe, he thinks, that knock to the head was just what he needed to get his inspiration flowing. His strokes are smooth and careful, in contrast to their usual erratic zig zags, and his curves and blending painstakingly done. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembers that he hasn't gone to the museum, but then he reminds himself that he had decided not to go back today. By the time he falls asleep and wakes up on Sunday, it doesn't look like he'll be heading over to the museum today either.

Paint is spattered up to his elbows, and by the time he drops his brush to let what he has done dry, his limbs are stiff and he's not even sure what time it is anymore. Guessing from glancing out his window, it's night (or early morning) – but what he does know that it's really time for a shower_._ He jumps in the bathroom and throws himself into the shower with a vigor that he didn't know he had, scrubbing himself down from head to toe. How many days has it been since he's taken a shower?

He wrinkles his nose while thinking about it, he totally doesn't want to think about it. After a good 20 minutes of rub down, he eases himself out of the bathroom, and mozies on back to his room. He checks his cell phone for the first time since he texted Maxie that he was still alive, and blinks in surprise. There's the reply text from Max saying "Okay, see you Monday!" and a text from the Chief telling him that what he wants for his birthday is a renewal for his World of Warcraft account, but he also has three missed calls from numbers he doesn't know.

He studies the numbers for a few seconds before pressing _Call_ on the first one. It rings a few times, and then goes into voice message:

"Hey, this is Mao! I can't grab the phone right now, so leave me a message, and maaaybe I'll get back to you!"

Mao? How did _she_ get his number? After an awkward pause, he coughs and then says, "Hey! Uh, this is Kinomiya Takao. I... don't really know how you got my number but! I see that you called and I missed it soooo... call me back when you can, okay? No maybes!" He presses the _end_ button, and stares at the other two numbers. If Mao had called him without him giving out his number, who else could these calls be from? They hadn't even left _messages_. After another moment of hesitation, he presses _Call_on the second number. Again, it rings for a few times, but this won't record a message when no one picks up – apparently the call was placed from a payphone.

...Creepy.

The third call ends up being from Hitoshi, from a new cell phone number.

"I told you, I'm _fine!_" Takao gripes as he throws himself back on his bed, rolling his eyes as hard as he can, even though Hitoshi can't see, "Grandpa was exaggerating, he didn't crack my skull! Geez, you'd think I've never gotten hit on the head before. ...No, I haven't been in fights recently! W-why would you think _that_, ahaha? I do _not_ laugh when I'm nervous! Augh, I'm fine, okay?" After hanging up with Hitoshi, he stares at his phone a bit more – who had that second caller been...? Well, staring at the phone wasn't going to tell him, so he tosses it aside and rolls over, ready to get some well deserved sleep.

…

It hadn't been easy, getting Kinomiya Takao's phone number, but when you're part of a gang, just about anything is possible. Connections, and all that. If it was one thing the White Tigers had, it was connections.

Mao was out with a few other girls, scouting a warehouse area on the edge of their territory. They had gotten word on a few pieces of controversial art coming in to be stored there - no big named painters - but those who weren't particularly fond of the new Governor of Beycity. Pieces of how the city had gone to shit, of the kids huddled together in dark alleyways to get warm, graffiti dressing parks, and shots of gangs prowling the city at night.

Paintings, photographs, sketches, collages, and more – all to be used in a public rally against Governor Boris. People wanted him out of office, and were starting to get more riled up about it. These pieces were necessary to really show how bad things had gotten on the streets, some things were even done by kids their own age. It was all about presentation and impact.

The shipping and placement of the pieces had been on the down-low, so this wasn't going to be a hard job. In fact, it was going to be totally boring, sitting around with a bunch of other girls in a old warehouse, with nothing to do but keep their senses sharp and gossip. That's part of the reason_why_ Mao was in charge of this job – Rei didn't want her anywhere that might be really dangerous. That steamed her up a bit, and she had complained about it a bit to the other girls on the way over, but they had just found it "romantic". Tsh! What's romantic about a guy thinking you can't handle yourself?

After securing the area around the warehouse, they set up inside. The sit spread out, around the boxes of art, slightly hidden in the shadows just in case something happens. The first few minutes are quiet, with the girls wary of every noise and rustle, but after five long minutes of suspicion, they began to chat with one another. "Sooooo," one girl, who is somewhat new to the gang, purrs at Mao, "How's it going with you and Rei?" The other girls titter a bit – even if you're living the hard life in a gang, some things _never_ change. And, well, they're going to be stuck in here for a while, why not talk?

Mao rolls her eyes, "The same, as ever! The other day I was going to the movies, all by myself, and I told him that. I said, Hey Rei! I'm going to the movies, but I so don't want to go alone.And I _know_ it was a movie he wanted to see, because I picked that one because I overheard him saying he'd like to see it. Anyway, I ask him,I'd really like it if someone'd come with me! And I thought he finally got it! But then he goes, Oh, uh, I think Lee can go with you_._Geez!"

The other girls sigh and nod, because boys are hopeless_._Mao continues, "I'm sorry, but I don't know how to be any more direct than that!" A girl named Hin answers, "Well, you could always jump into his lap and-!" The other girls burst into laughter before Hin can finish, and Mao flushes prettily, "I _could_, if I wanted to kill him. Rei is weird like that, I'd give him a heart attack before I could do anything." They all laugh again, and shake their heads.

One girl lifts the tarp she's near, "Huh... you know, these pieces are kinda pretty. I mean, for such a bad subject. The parks really have gotten bad... I used to love going to them when I was a little girl, with my dad." She pulls the tarp off so the other girls can see the picture. It's a photograph, enlarged, and the photographer did something with the lighting to make the lighting to make the park seem surreal – like something out of a dream. The girls stare, their eyes wide and silent, until Mao whips out her cellphone and begins to press buttons.

"Who are you calling?" Hin asks, "Rei?" The girls giggle again, but this time Mao wrinkles her nose, "No way! If I so much as give him a single ring, he'll be over here so fast thinking something is wrong that we won't know what hit us. No, no, I'm calling a friend of mine – Kinomiya Takao." She presses _send_ and holds the phone up to her ear as it rings. "Kinomiya Takao?" another girl echos, curious, "Why?" "He loves this kind of thing," Mao says while glancing back at the photograph, "And... I think he'd really like to see it."

She frowns when he doesn't pick up, but she doesn't leave a message. She'll call back in a few minutes. "Besides," she sniffs after a second, "This night will be a lot more fun if I'm not completely surrounded by girls. I love you, but we need a little male perspective in here!"

"If I were you, I wouldn't worry about _that_."

Mao spins at the voice – which is distinctly _male_ – as do the other girls. "Bladesharks!" one of the other girls growl, while whipping out her pocket knife in one fluid moment. They stand in the doorway, with the door taken right off the hinges to keep from making a sound. And, from counting, there are at least nine of them. Nine against five, not the best of odds.

Carlos grins, "That's right. Looks to us like you've got plenty of male perspective _now_." Kai, who stands next to Carlos with his arms crossed over his chest, says nothing, but watches them carefully. From the way it looks, with Carlos doing all the talking, it almost seems like Carlos is in charge – but everyone knows that's not the case. In fact, Mao would feel a whole lot better if Carlos were in charge – she knows she can get over on him, but on Kai...?

She has a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

The girls continue pulling out weapons, or grabbing whatever happens to be in reach. Mao stands in front of them, her legs spread out, ready to pounce into action, "Get out of here! You're in _our_ territory!" The boys laugh, jabbing one another with their elbows and nodding in the direction of the girls, not taking them seriously at all.

Well, Mao thinks, they're going to seriously regret that_._Kai, who hangs back with disinterest, is the one to set it all off. He utters one word, "Go," and they do. The Bladesharks lurch forward, taking out the pieces closest to them, and close in on the White Tigers. They tear apart photographs and stomp on paintings, they pry collages apart and spit on sketches. Mao and the White Tigers leap into action, swiftly taking down one Bladeshark before he knew what hit him. Kicking and punching her way through the fray, Maou tries to reach Kai, who watches the chaos passively.

She takes down another guy by herself, swiftly knocking him out with a kick to the head. Behind her, the other girls struggle against the Bladesharks, keeping them at bay with practiced swings while trying to protect the pieces behind them. However, there's a sharp yank on her ponytail, and an arm wraps around her waist, jerking her back and away from the leader of the Bladesharks.

When grabbed, her cell phone falls out of her pocket, and skids across the floor, stopping a few inches from Kai's feet. He looks down at the phone, takes a step, and then scoops it up easily. Mao twists in anger, swinging her fists and kicking her feet, trying to land a good one on whoever grabbed her. But she's hoisted into the air easily, and Carlos laughs from behind her.

"Got them all! Man, they put up some kinda fight, though. Four guys knocked out right clean! Don't worry though boss, there's still enough of us to get the rest of the job done."

Kai gives a short nod of his head, "Then _do_ it. Don't stand there blabbing at me about it." Carlos grimaces from behind Mao, not that she can really see, and shouts back to the rest of the guys, "The boss says to get on with it! You heard him, and now you're hearin' _me!_" From behind her, Maou can hear the girls struggling against restraint, as well as the sound of more pieces being destroyed. But before her, Kai is flipping through her cell phone casually, checking out her private information and numbers. She growls, "If you think you're gonna call Rei and tell him to back down because you've got me, don't even think about it! He'll _never_ back down!" At that, Kai actually _smirks_and replies, "Why would I do that? He was never a threat to begin with."

No, he instead stares at the little screen, as though he's memorizing something. Mao struggles again, her anger fueled at that slur at Rei, "He'll get you! And you'll be _sorry_!" After another long look at the screen, Kai throws the phone down and it slides back to her, stopping just before her. He shrugs, "Tough words from someone who's been captured." Carlos laughs, as though Kai's words were some sort of grand jest, and kicks the cell phone. Mao gasps as it goes skidding deep into the warehouse.

She struggles again, but the Bladesharks are grabbing a crate and emptying it out right in front of her. She knows what's going to happen. Once it's empty, they toss her inside of it and slam the lid down, trapping her inside. She kicks and punches the top, but to no avail – from the weight, it seems like they've either sealed it shut or Carlos is sitting on top of it. Her hands bleed from punching, so eventually she stops, knowing it's useless.

Oh, no... this was all her fault, wasn't it? She rubs her eyes with the palms of her hands. Rei had entrusted this mission to her, and she had thought it was just a throw to keep her occupied, but in fact, it must have been really important, huh? He had trusted her, and she had let him down. She'd never be able to forgive herself – she let Rei down, and she let those girls down. What was going to happen to them? She can't even begin to imagine.

Inside that tiny crate, Mao crouches and fights back tears. This wasn't supposed to have happened. How did they _know_? The shipment was of the utmost secrecy. Was there a rat inside the White Tigers?

…

The phone rings a few times, before going into voicemail. Takao's dumb voice fills the speaker.

"... Is it on? Oh, crap – hey, this is Kinomiya Takao, and I can't get to the phone right now! So, uh, leave me a message! I'll probably get back to you in a few days. ….Maybe a week? Ugh, I'll get back to you! At least, I think-"

He hangs up before the recorded message can finish. …What an _idiot_.

A/N: ...It's literally been forever since I've updated this! Does anyone still even care? Probably not! But I was suddenly seized with the desire to finish it, so here I am. I actually had fun writing this, and I'm pretty fond of the story. Thanks to everyone who reads, and reviews on how you think it's going are always appreciated! Just a note, for some reason the formatting gets a bit weird in place – I think it's because I'm using OpenOffice and not microsoft word. If you see some italics smushed together or no spaces between the end of sentences, that's why! I can't seem to get it to stick right. Just fair warning. :)


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